the most wonderful time of the year
by chalantness
Summary: [tumblr mini-fic giveaway] Day Fifty-Seven - Steve/Natasha - Normally, Natasha would find this little display amusing. Right now, she just finds it damn annoying.
1. Day One

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~800  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** Halloween

 **A/N:** I liked the idea of kids dressing up as the Avengers in canon, too, so that's where this little piece of fluff came from.

Here's something extra sweet to kick off my Halloween through New Year's drabble-a-day project! You can find the full prompt list on my tumblr account (of the same username) if you want to take a look at what's to come.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day one  
**

Last year on Halloween, Clint and Laura were over and they took the kids trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, and it was great, of course. Natasha doesn't ever pass up the chance to spend time with those kids, and it was nice to sit down and catch up with Clint and Laura afterward, when it was late and the kids were already asleep.

They're not coming over this year – Lila is still getting over a cold and Clint wanted her to get some rest – but Natasha didn't really feel like dressing up for the Stark Industries party that Tony invited them to, either. She didn't want to have to put together a costume, and honestly, all she really wants to do tonight is stay at home with Steve and pass out candy. Maybe that sounds stupid, but whatever. It's actually really cute to see all the kids _light up_ when Steve opens the door and tells them how awesome all their costumes look, and they even get excited to see her, believe it or not. Parents even want her to take pictures with them. That still surprises her. She can see how kids might not understand who she really is and what she did, and most of them were probably too young to remember the Black Widow spilling all of her secrets to the public. They just know who she is now, as an Avenger.

She honestly didn't think that their parents would come to see her like that, too.

"You're my favorite Avenger," a little girl tells her as Natasha drops a few pieces of candy into her bag. She's dressed as a _ballerina_ , with a pale pink ribbon in her bun and a sparkly tutu, and Natasha couldn't help but notice the almost perfect point to her toes when she leaned up to whisper this to Natasha, like they were sharing a secret.

"Really?" Natasha asks, leaning down to get closer to her height. Natasha _knows_ that Steve is grinning at her. She can practically feel his gaze.

The little girl nods. "You're the reason she wants to become a gymnast," the girl's father tells Natasha, sounding _proud_. "She thought you looked so cool doing your flips on the news. Right, sweetheart?"

The little girl nods again, smile widening, and Natasha… doesn't really know what to say.

"That's great to hear," Natasha says, watching the girl's eyes brighten. She giggles a little and reaches into her bag, producing a folded piece of paper and holding it out for Natasha. "This for me?" she asks, carefully unfolding it, and Natasha actually feels her heart skip when she sees what's on the page – her and the little girl in crayon, twirling ribbons. There are spider webs in the corners, and in the girl's big, looping handwriting at the top, it says _you're my hero!_ Natasha lets out a breath. "With this kind of talent, you could be an artist, too."

The girl _beams_ at her, and, on an impulse, Natasha taps her index finger to her nose, making her giggle. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," Natasha tells her, meaning it.

The parents ask to take a picture of them, and then another with Steve, and Natasha carefully holds up the drawing for the camera to see. The girl is practically _bouncing_ down the walkway as she leaves hand-in-hand with her parents, and it's late enough that the streets are pretty much empty, so Steve shuts off the porch light before closing the door.

Natasha doesn't realize that she's still staring at the drawing until Steve gently takes it from her fingers, setting it onto the coffee table. She lets out a bit of a laugh, for no particular reason, and Steve smiles a little wider as he wraps his arms around her and draws her close.

"She adored you," he points out.

"She did," Natasha agrees, surprised. Her skin is still a little flushed as Steve presses a kiss to each cheek. "I can't imagine why."

"Because you're a hero. You're _her_ hero," he says simply, easily, like it should be obvious. Then he leans his forehead against hers, brings a hand up to comb it through her hair and cradle the back of her head. "You're my hero, too."

"Stop," she breathes, lips twitching into a smile that she's trying to fight. "Does that mean you're going to draw me, too?"

He hums, the hand at her hip sliding upward, just under the hem of her shirt. She sucks in a soft gasp as his fingers press purposefully over her skin, dancing upward, little by little. "Well, I was thinking I could actually draw _on_ you, but…" He trails off, fingertips brushing against the ticklish spot on her ribs. She clings onto him tighter. "If you don't want to—"

She's laughing as she cuts him off with a kiss, wraps her legs around him when he lifts her into his arms, and he stumbles them into the bedroom.

(They get paint _all over_ the bedsheet, which makes her grin when she sees it in the morning.)

(And when she makes her way into the kitchen, she finds the little girl's drawing pinned to their fridge with a magnet. That makes her grin a little more.)


	2. Day Two

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda through the eyes of Natasha, Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "au where the gang goes on a road trip and everyone is trying to get person A and B together but guess y'all didn't know they've been dating for months now and they weren't hiding it 'you just never asked' and A+B thought they were just being nice friends (Winterwitch)"

 **For:** i-cannot-escape-this-fandom

 **A/N:** I know it's a holiday giveaway, but road trips instantly make me think of summer.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day two  
**

"Wanda, come on. You don't know what's in that water."

"Well, that's half the fun of it, right?" the girl asks, eyes sparkling as she spins around and raises her eyebrows at him, walking backwards toward the lake. Natasha grins and sips her (Steve's) milkshake, glancing between the two of them, and there's a tug of satisfaction when Bucky mutters, " _Fuck_ ," under his breath and hops onto his feet, heading after her.

They've been talking about a road trip for a few summers now, but this is the first one that none of them are taking classes for extra credit or interning or working part-time, and when Wanda had decided this was a sign that they should get out of town, it was hard to disagree. They didn't really have a destination in mind when they packed their bags and talked with their parents about, you know, being gone for three weeks (they're _21_ ; it's not like it was going to be an issue). But then Sam's parents asked if they wanted to "keep an eye" on their beach house, and obviously they said yes. It takes three days to drive there, but that's fine. They've got _two whole months_ to hang out this summer. It's not like they're in any rush.

They spent their first day on the road taking way too many detours, because Wanda and Darcy wanted to take pictures of _everything_ , but of course none of them minded. It's kind of awesome doing whatever the hell they want, without needing to be anywhere at all.

Sharon had found this lake on Google Maps when they were trying to find a place to get burgers, and a diner had only been five minutes away, so this is where they ended up.

It's pretty awesome out here, tucked in their own little world.

"I don't remember you being such a stick-in-the-mud in high school," Wanda teases Bucky, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it at his face. He laughs, throwing it onto the ground, and Wanda giggles and starts shimmying out of her jean shorts. She's wearing a bathing suit underneath, but Pietro still makes a noise of protest when Sharon whistles.

"I'm sorry, which one of us was too busy making _flash cards_ to go to her first college party?" Bucky taunts, shedding his own shirt. Wanda giggles and shoves his stomach.

That's also something a little different about this summer. Wanda has always been affectionate, and Bucky has always been charming (aka: a flirt, but actually in a really sweet way). People have always sort of confused their banter as teasing because of it, but something about them this summer feels _different_. Natasha had thought it'd been in her head before, when they'd pulled over on the side of the road earlier to pick flowers (Wanda's idea, of course) and the two of them had been laughing about something to themselves. Steve had figured it's because Bucky and Wanda are the only two out them to go to the same college, so they never stopped seeing each other so often. But Natasha can tell it's not just that.

Sharon must be on the same page, too, because she leans over and whispers, "Do they seem flirtier than usual, or is it just in my head?" in Natasha's ear.

"I don't know," Natasha admits, still watching as Bucky grabs Wanda by her hips and throws her over her shoulder, making her laugh as he runs them deeper into the lake.

"I'm pretty sure Bucky was checking her out when we stopped to get gas," Darcy chimes in. "He's always had a thing for her legs."

" _Babe_." Pietro makes a face. "This is still my sister we're talking about."

"What? She's hot."

Pietro rolls his eyes and steals her last fry, making her whack his chest, and they all laugh. But Natasha knows that they're still thinking about this conversation a little later, when they check into a motel for the night and divvy up rooms. Bucky and Wanda had sat on the same towel in the back seat during the ride from the lake, and they'd been talking with her and Steve, of course, but every time Natasha had glanced in the rearview mirror, she saw them huddled together, or sharing these little smiles. Bucky had braided Wanda's wet hair into pigtails and then kept his arm draped over her, and she curled up into his side, and that had hardly been the first time it happened. But something about it felt more _intimate_. Private.

They'd only reserved two rooms – boys in one, girls in the other – but the place was mostly vacant, and the sweet, elderly lady that checked them in offered to give them two more at a ridiculously discounted price, just because, and Darcy is grinning way too widely when she volunteers Bucky and Wanda to the biggest room. Something that none of them would've batted an eye at before, but Pietro tries not to scowl at the idea as he glances at Bucky, as if to making sure he wasn't checking Wanda out right then and there. Natasha almost laughs.

"But it's not just us, right?" Natasha asks when she and Steve are in their room. "You guys see it too?"

Steve is sitting on the edge of the mattress, nodding and drawing her by her hips to stand between his legs. "Yeah," Steve answers. There's amusement in his smile, but also a bit of surprise, too. "He's different around her now. More than he was before."

"It's nice," Natasha says, meaning it. "They're pretty cute together," she adds, grinning as she thinks about Bucky and Wanda playing around in the lake.

Steve gives her that dimpled smile of his, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "We're pretty cute, too." She's smiling as she rolls her eyes, and he kisses her on the lips, once, twice. "Want to go for a walk?"

Natasha smiles a little wider and nods, letting him thread their fingers together when he stands up and takes her hand. It's still warm out, even though it's late, and it's not like they'd planned on leaving first thing in the morning. She's not tired just yet and it's kind of the perfect time to be outside, with the night quiet and the sky dotted with stars.

Bucky and Wanda's room is across from theirs, and the door is ajar. They can hear Wanda giggling, so it's not all that alarming, but Steve still takes a look inside, just in case.

"Buck?" Steve asks, pushing it open, and Natasha sort of just _stops_ when she sees Bucky and Wanda pull apart in surprise, turning to look at her and Steve. Bucky has one knee on the couch, a hand braced against the cushion as he hovers over Wanda beneath him, her curls fanned out and a bit disheveled, her cheeks a little flushed and shirt sort of twisted and—

Oh. _Oh_.

"Sorry," Steve says automatically, as his eyebrows furrow.

Wanda breathes out a laugh, but she doesn't seem embarrassed at all, and neither does Bucky as he says, "Come on, man. I wouldn't just walk into yours and Nat's room."

"Well, no, but that's because—" He stops himself, and Natasha knows she'd be laughing at the confusion on his face now, if she wasn't so thrown herself. "Wait, are you two…?"

Bucky gives him a look. Wanda giggles beneath him, eyes sparkling as she asks, "Yeah, wasn't it obvious?"


	3. Day Three

**Rating:** M-ish  
 **Word Count:** ~900  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "Steve having a habit of sticking his hands under Natasha's fluffy sweaters. And of course, smut is always welcome. ;D"

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** Your prompts are always so smutty and fluffy and _I love it!_

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day three  
**

It had been a gag gift of sorts, their first year of being partners. Their only plans for Christmas that year had been apprehending a black market arms dealer in Hong Kong before he could finish his deal. But a few hours before they were supposed to meet up with Nick to brief and fly out, Steve had shown up at her apartment with a slim box wrapped in Rudolph paper, this little grin on his face that she'd started getting out of him more and more often, when she'd made it a game of trying to get him a date. She only vaguely remembered teasing him about having an ugly Christmas sweater, but she still felt oddly _touched_ when she carefully ripped the paper aside and pulled it out of the box after she'd invited him in. She'd never seen something so ridiculous. The sweater was fluffy and red with white, geometric shapes that were supposed to look like reindeer and presents and Christmas trees.

It was awful, and kind of hilarious, too. And also _really freaking comfortable_.

She'd fallen asleep in it that night, and actually told Steve that, too, when he asked a week later if she actually kept it. Now she gets a new sweater every year, along with something else. Last year, she'd gotten a green one with an oil portrait of herself that he'd spent a week on. (She'd _cried_ , and he'd just smiled at her when she called him an ass for it.)

This year? She'd gotten her sweater a few days early, along with a copy of his apartment key (it's something they've talked about for a while, because the timing felt _right_ ). She has a few more presents under the cute little tree he has in the corner of his living room, which he won't give her any hints about, no matter how much she pries.

"This one is obviously something paper," Natasha says, gently shaking the small, thin box in snowflake wrapping paper.

" _Stop_ ," Steve laughs, prying it from her grasp and setting it back under the tree. She leans over to snatch another one but Steve breathes her name, sliding his hands under the hem of her sweater, and she flinches and mutters a curse when his cold fingertips slide against her skin.

" _Ass_ ," she mutters. He grins, kissing her once, twice, nipping at her lower lip, and she clutches onto the cotton material of his shirt. "Just tell me one?"

"No." He teases his fingertips against her skin, sliding his hands a little higher. She shivers lightly, kisses him a little harder. "You're so impatient."

"Old news," she murmurs as he lays her gently onto the carpet. She grasps the front of his jeans, gets it unbuttoned, but he snatches her wrists with one hand before she can get the zipper down. He gives her a sexy little smirk, arching an eyebrow as if to emphasize his point, and she guides his hand that's still on her higher up her side, until he's cupping the lacy material of her bra. His eyes are dark, and sparkling, and she gently pries her wrists from his grasp and tugs him by his shirt for a kiss as he starts sliding her leggings down her thighs.

He dances his fingertips along her skin, touch light, teasing, so that she's slick and shivering when he pushes his tongue against hers and presses two fingers into her.

Her skin is hot, too hot, especially in this damn sweater, and when she's close, he slows his hand and thumbs her little bundle of nerves, making her whimper, making her claw at the carpet and tug on his hair as she tries to roll her hips.

He presses a kiss to her collarbone. "So impatient," he teases.

"Fuck you," she says, voice breathy and quivering. He just laughs and nuzzles his face into her sweater.

Later, _after_ , he tugs the throw off of the couch and tugs it over them. He's not wearing anything, and she's still in her sweater as she lays on his chest, circling her fingertips over the dips of his chest. She's definitely forgotten about the present altogether, so it takes her a second to understand what he means when he says, "They're plane tickets."

She hums, lifts her head to meet his gaze. "To where?"

"Russia," he says, and she sort of holds her breath, feels her eyes widen ever so slightly. He squeezes the hand on her arm, hugs her a little closer. "I wanted to… You told me you found your parents' graves, right?" She nods, not even sure what to say, but he continues talking when she doesn't. "I know Russia doesn't have the best memories for you, but, it's still _part_ of you. And, I was thinking maybe we could go there together one day. But the tickets are still refundable, if you don't—" he adds, but she cuts him off with a kiss, hot and heavy, her heart thrumming in her chest. He makes this little noise of surprise when she sort of rolls herself on top of him completely, grasping his face and kissing him even harder.

"You _ass_ ," she breathes, eyelashes wet when she pulls away. He smiles, squeezes her hips. "You know I love you, right?"

"No matter what you say, I'm only spoiling the one present," he says, and she laughs. "I love you, too."


	4. Day Four

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "Wrapped in Red" by Kelly Clarkson

 **For:** marvelousdorito

 **A/N:** This song is so them that it hurts. I just can't. Also, they are such awkward, adorable puppies.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day four  
**

She likes to think that she knows what she's doing most of the time. She trains and plans and adapts, and even if she's nervous (even if she's _scared_ ), she knows how to remain composed. It's a skill she's perfected, that's helped her survive. She's good at what she does because of it.

But tonight? Tonight, she doesn't know what the hell she's doing.

She blames Wanda. The girl is sweet, with the biggest heart, and she pays attention. Even without her powers, Natasha knew that the girl would eventually catch onto all the things Natasha never liked to talk about or even _think_ about, because she didn't know what the hell to do with any of it. She's in love with Steve, probably has been for a lot longer than she pretended not to be, and Wanda had caught on. The only other person that might know would be Clint – and by extension, Laura – but she knows neither of them would bring it up because she wouldn't want them to. Wanda asks her about it, though. Not because she doesn't respect Natasha's privacy, but because the girl is convinced that she should tell him.

"I've seen the way he looks at you," Wanda had told her when the two of them had gone to the supermarket. "I've seen the way you two are together."

"We've been partners for a while, Wanda," Natasha had said dismissively, pretending to be more preoccupied with their grocery list. "We're comfortable with each other."

"This is different," Wanda insisted, half-stepping in front of Natasha so that she'd meet her stare. Wanda's eyes had been bright, _hopeful_ , and Natasha's heart couldn't help but latch onto that. "You two light up when you're together. I can feel how happy you are, and I know you're important to each other. I think you owe it to yourselves to give it a try."

"I don't know, kid," Natasha had said, but, it was hard to say no to that smile on her face. "Maybe we will."

They haven't talked about it since then, but she knows that she and Steve being the only two people in the facility tonight is probably her doing. She knows the others already had places to be, or were out of town on an assignment, but Wanda had decided that she wanted Pietro to take her ice-skating. She'd invited Steve, and of course he passed, because he wanted to give the siblings some time together on their own. But Wanda had sort of just grinned at Natasha when she thought the girl was going to offer for her to tag along, then leaned in when Steve had been distracted with talking to Pietro. "I gave you one of your Christmas presents a little early, just in case," Wanda had told Natasha. "It's in your room."

She almost laughs when she finds the dress in her closet. Somehow, she isn't surprised. It's beautiful – scarlet red, with a cut neckline that swooped just low enough and a cut that bared most of her back. It looks like it could've been more expensive than you thought, and, as she steps into it, she wonders if Pepper had helped her pick it out.

And she decides that if this is happening, she might as well go the whole nine yards. She touches up her curls, slips a clip into her hair (a birthday gift from Sam) and does her makeup light, simple. It's a little ridiculous that she's so dolled up when she doesn't technically have any plans tonight.

It's even more ridiculous that she's a little _nervous_.

She steps out of her suite, her heart thrumming, her skin tingling, and she sort of pauses outside her room as the doors slide shut behind her.

His door is open (it usually is, because he wants everyone to feel comfortable coming to him whenever they need to) and she sort of hates that she's wearing heels right now, even though she'd had the perfect pair to wear with the dress, and it wouldn't make sense _not_ to. But she knows that he can hear her coming, and she's about to step through the door when she hears him ask, "Natasha? Is that you?" She hesitates for a moment, even as she hums in acknowledgment. This is… _ridiculous_. She takes a breath and steps into the room.

"Hey," she greets, leaning her arm against the doorframe. Steve is sitting on his bed, sketchbook in his lap, and her heart sort of skips in her chest when he looks up and his expression shifts – eyes widening ever so slightly, lips parting. He sits up a little straighter, his pencil falling onto the floor. But he barely notices.

"Hey," he echoes, voice soft. "You look…" He lets out a breath, lips twitching into a smile. "You look beautiful, Nat."

"Thank you." She smooths her hands over her dress, walking over to the bed. His eyes don't leave her even for a moment as she moves to sit down beside him. She glances down at his sketchbook, a rush of _something_ going through her when she sees what's on the page. The sketch is still rough, but the figure of a woman is distinct on the page. She's standing with a champagne flute in her hand, glancing at something off of the page, a small smile on her lips. He'd swirled red into the curls of her hair, and colored in the outline of the dress.

The outline of _her_ dress. The one she has on now.

She looks at him.

"I—" He lets out another breath, brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck. He smudges pencil onto his skin, but she doesn't point it out. "I helped Wanda pick out your present. She wanted my input, and I—" He pauses and glances at her, lips quirking at the corners. "It was hard to get the image out of my head. I hope you don't mind that I…"

"That you drew me without me knowing? Actually, I'm quite offended," she teases, which makes him chuckle. "Steve, you know I don't mind at all if you draw me. It's sweet."

He nods a little, glancing at her dress again. If it was someone else, she might've been bothered by all the staring. But it's different with Steve. It always has been.

"So, who's the lucky guy?" he asks. He sounds casual, almost nonchalant – or he would, if Natasha hadn't heard the slight crack in his voice as he started speaking. She smiles.

"You," she answers, voice soft, watching his expression shift. He looks surprised. Surprised and _hopeful_. Her heart flutters. "I think we should talk."


	5. Day Five

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,000  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "Muscle kink, Natasha obsessed with Steve's arms"

 **For:** smartasswolf25

 **A/N:** I don't know what this is, but it is so much dirtier than I thought it'd be. Sorry?

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day five  
**

She never used to get like this after drinking, not before Steve. And she'd just rolled her eyes when Maria had teased her about alcohol turning her on, but _fuck_. Maybe there's some truth to that. Steve has never had a problem with turning her on, _at all_ , but it's different after she's had enough to drink. Four glasses and she's climbing onto his lap and whispering dirty things into his ear and not giving a damn about who might be listening. Five, and she's practically dragging him into the bathroom and tearing him out of those ridiculously _tight_ dress shirts he insists on wearing (seriously, he does this shit _on purpose_ ). One time they hadn't even made it off of the elevator. Clint never lets them forget and probably never will.

Tony talks all of them into coming to some party he and Pepper are throwing at the penthouse. It's the first time in a while that they're all together, and it's pretty much a given that they'll be crashing in the guest rooms, so she doesn't really argue when Tony keeps pushing another drink into her hand.

It's just after 2:00 when the last of the other guests have finally left, and they talk around the coffee table for another half hour before deciding to call it a night. Her feet still hurt from being in stilettos all night, so she lets Steve carry her to their room. She feels a little tired, but she can also feel the alcohol in her system, her blood thrumming, and watching Steve get undressed really isn't helping things. He drops his tie onto the chair in the corner, starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, and she forgets that she's trying to take off her earring.

She lasts until he's in his boxers and pulling his undershirt over his head, baring the dips of his muscles to her – his chest and his back and _his arms_ – and she's up on her feet before she can really think about it. She crosses the small distance between them and grasps onto his biceps, stretches on her toes and crashes her lips against his.

He makes a noise of surprise, tries to say her name, but she licks at the seam of his lips, then presses her tongue against his, and he grunts and wraps an arm around her.

She gently scratches her nails over his skin, feels his muscles flex. She nearly whimpers.

One of his hands comes up and tangles itself in her hair, cradling the back of her head as he tightens the arm around her, presses their hips together with the motion. She's sort of been wet all night – she's a sucker for Steve in a suit, especially when she knows exactly how much fun it is to get him _out_ of one – and every dirty little thought she had earlier that night comes rushing back as his nips and sucks at her lower lip. She's still in her dress, which feels tight, _too damn tight_ , and it's as if he's thinking the same thing, because then he yanks his hand from her hair and grasps at the hem of her dress, trying to tug it off. She fumbles for the zipper in the back, slides it down and parts their kiss so he can pull her dress off over her head. He tosses it to the floor and hooks an arm around her again and _lifts her up_ in one motion, and she locks her legs around his hips, grinds down as she kisses him.

" _Fuck_ ," he mutters, almost making her shiver. It's so incredibly _sexy_ to hear him curse like this, because it's only ever for her. She rolls her hips again, feels how hard he is through the thin material of his boxers, feels his muscles quiver under her fingertips.

"I want to touch you," she murmurs into his mouth, her breath raspy and hot against his skin. He grunts and starts walking them to the bed, rubbing against her with every step.

Her back has barely hit the mattress when she lunges, knocking him by his shoulders and rolling them over so that she's on top. She flattens her palms against his chest, dips her head down and presses a wet, open kiss to his skin. She feels his body hum when he lets out a groan, glances up to watch his head tip back against the pillows.

"Nat," he breathes, reaching for her, but she bats his hands away and tightens her legs around his hips. He's hard and pressing right against her slick center through what little clothes they still have on, and she rocks her hips as she closes her lips around one of his nipples, swirling her tongue. She slides her hands over his arms, fingertips dipping over his muscles. She digs her nails in, latches onto his other nipple as she scratches at his skin, and he makes this sound from the back of his throat that tells her that he wants more. "Oh _fuck_ , Nat—"

She kisses up his body as her hands slide down his chest, scratching, _teasing_ at the waistband of his boxers, and she dips underneath as her lips find his again.

"I love your arms," she tells him, which would sound _ridiculous_ if they weren't both so turned on right now. "I love how they feel around me, surrounding me, _protecting_ me."

"Yeah?"

" _Yeah_." She nips at his lower lip. "All I want to feel is you."

He _growls_ and rolls them over, yanks her panties down her legs. She kicks them off entirely, licks her lips as he gets rid of his boxers, and then he braces himself on his elbows and lowers himself over her, presses right at her entrance. She whimpers and widens her legs a little more. She's surrounded by him, by all of his heat and his hard muscles, and then he sinks into her and her body arches, her hands coming up to grasp at his biceps, digging her nails in, needing something to anchor herself as he rubs against her, deep and _delicious_.

"Going to love you, Nat," he tells her, his breath hot against her ear, making her skin tingle. She digs her nails in a little more. "Going to love you until all you feel is me."

And then he snaps his hips before she can respond, hitting that sweet spot, and she cries out his name and clings onto him even tighter.


	6. Day Six

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "you probably think I don't like you but actually am highkey in love with u"

 **For:** im-too-cold

 **A/N:** The fluffiness of this prompt is _just perfect_.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day six  
**

She's fairly certain that James is uncomfortable with her presence. Or maybe he just doesn't like her. She's not sure which one is more upsetting.

She's trying not to take it personally. She hasn't done anything to him, hasn't given him a reason to not trust her, but it can't be easy to be around someone who you know can just invite herself into your head, especially after all the years that Hydra had done that very thing to him. She understands. She really does, and so she tries to let it go. It's not as if he's _rude_ to her, after all. He just doesn't ever really look at her, or in her direction, and he certainly doesn't like to talk to her. Actually, she thinks they've never said a word to each other when it wasn't for an assignment. And he's started _avoiding_ her in the training room, staying across the room for her, or just leaving altogether a few minutes after she's stepped in.

(That she takes a little personally.)

They're in one of the conference rooms, looking over a few more leads for an extraterrestrial chemical substance that went missing two weeks ago. They've been scouting things out in pairs, and usually she's with Sam, so it catches her off guard when Steve says that she'll be going with Bucky.

"James?" she asks, before she can catch herself, and then she feels her cheeks warm as Steve pauses and furrows his eyebrows at her. He doesn't seem upset, just surprised.

"Yes." He glances across the table where James is sitting, and Wanda feels her stomach flip. She hadn't meant to question him in front of everyone, especially since she thinks they haven't picked up on James not liking her. He's reserved with everyone, but it feels _different_ with her. It feels a little more like he's avoiding _her_ in particular. She didn't want to start something by admitting that to anyone else, though. "Is something wrong?" Steve asks, tone gentle, understanding. "Because if you don't feel comfortable going to Costa Rica—"

"No, I'm fine," she rushes out, voice soft. "It's fine."

"Alright," Steve says, though he hesitates for another moment before continuing. "Alright. So, Natasha and Sam, you'll take London…"

She glances away, catching James's gaze across the table, and for once, he doesn't immediately look away after. Her heart skips as she rubs her lips together, glancing down.

Her cheeks still feel a little flushed even after they've dismissed their meeting, and she stays in her seat as everyone starts to leave. Steve drops a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and she gives him a small smile in return. She knows that he probably wants to talk to her, but then he glances over his shoulder at where Bucky is lingering, leaning against the wall and not looking at them, even though it's obvious that he's waiting for a reason. Waiting for _her_. Her stomach flips at this realization. "We'll talk later," Steve promises.

He pats a hand against James's shoulder as he leaves, and then it's just the two of them.

It's obvious that they should say _something_ , but she can't quite find the words, or her voice, for that matter. She glances at her lap, tugs at the ends of her sleeves.

"I'm sorry," James says after a moment, and she looks up to find him giving her a bit of a wry smile. Her heart skips. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable around me."

That catches her off guard. "What?"

He slides his hands into his pockets and leans off of the wall, taking a few steps toward her. She sits up a little straighter, holding his gaze. "I make you uncomfortable," he clarifies. He pauses, expecting her to say something, but she's too surprised to get the words out. "I'll try to be better about everything. We're teammates, and you should be able to trust me."

She opens her mouth, and then stops herself. She's still not sure what he's saying. He must see her confusion, too, because he furrows his eyebrows at her a little.

"I… I thought I made _you_ uncomfortable, James," she admits, feeling a rush of warmth in her cheeks again when he blinks at her. He's surprised, and then suddenly she's stumbling out, "It's just – you don't ever look at me, and you avoid me when we're training, and you never really _say_ anything to me, and I—" She stops herself, tugging at the hem of her skirt. He looks almost stunned and rightly so. She shouldn't have just dumped all that on him. "I thought you were uncomfortable with me because of my powers," she adds, voice softer.

That seems to snap something in him, because suddenly he's grasping onto her hand with his metal one, and her breath catches, her skin _tingling_ at his touch.

"It has nothing to do with that, alright? I trust you. I do." His voice is firm, almost insistent, but it's strangely comforting. He pauses, seeming to wait for a response, so she holds his stare as she nods. He nods, too, and then his lips tug at the corners. Her heart skips. He has a _beautiful_ smile. "And, you're not uncomfortable with me?"

She shakes her head. "Why would I be?" she asks. "You've never given me a reason to be."

He lets out a short laugh, soft and breathy, and she can't help but smile a little at that, even if she still isn't sure what's going on. His laugh is just as beautiful as his smile.

"I guess now, I can understand why you might not have caught on," he says, more to himself than anything. He runs his thumb gently over her knuckles, almost idly, and she kind of loves how that feels. "The thing is…" He takes a breath, and she thinks he's almost a little embarrassed now, too. "I thought I was making you uncomfortable because of all the staring that I was doing," he admits, and her heart flutters in her chest. She blinks, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. Does that mean…? "I – you've just got this energy, you know? You've got this brightness to you that people are drawn to, and I just…" He shakes his head, letting out another breath. "You're always laughing and smiling and I can't help but watch you."

"James," she whispers.

His lips tug a little wider. "That, too. You call me _James_ and I think I like it way too much. I don't know how to _think_ when I hear it. That's why I haven't been able to talk to you. And I didn't mean to avoid you in the training room, but – I didn't want anyone to catch on and kick my ass. You should be able to train in peace without me checking you out."

She blushes a little more, if possible. "Oh," she says, and it's _pathetic_ , she knows. But she can't quite think properly right now.

He runs his thumb over her knuckles again, making her glance down at their joined hands. "I'll try harder to keep it under control," he promises.

She gnaws on her lower lip, looking up at him from under her eyelashes, and she feels a rush of giddiness at the way this makes his breath catch. "And if I don't want you to?"

"Oh," he says, and she doesn't think she's ever heard him sound so _happy_. She likes that she's the reason for it. He breathes out a bit of a laugh, smile brightening, and she tilts her head so that he meets her gaze again. He gently squeezes her hand. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."


	7. Day Seven

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,300  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "Natasha/Wanda/Sharon as waitresses + "fancy restaurant where all the employees go to the bar next door after work au" and there just so happens to be a trio of hot guys (*winkwink*) sitting at a nearby table celebrating something (work promotion?) so they covertly devise a plan to each take one of the guys home with a promise to meet up the morning after to discuss their conquests. Except Natasha sends and receives texts from the other two that none of them can make it. Because reasons."

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** What is flirting? Something that I can't write. Also, it ended up being more about Steve and Nat and less about the three girls, so, sorry! I'll make it up to you, I promise!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day seven  
**

"You've been staring all night."

Natasha doesn't look up from her drink as she says this, but she catches it out of the corner of her eye when Steve breathes out a bit of a laugh, glancing down. It should be a crime for a man as sexy as this one to be so damn adorable, too. It's unfair, really.

She didn't really want anything to come out of tonight except grabbing a couple of drinks and catching up with Sharon and Wanda. Their shifts at the restaurant they all waitress at don't ever really overlap, so when it happens, they almost always go out after. Usually it's just to this particular bar because it's down the street, and it's where all of the employees end up at after their shifts, anyway. It isn't exactly the first place you'd think of when it you want to pick someone up, so when Wanda had said this blonde at a nearby table was checking her out, Natasha wasn't really expecting much. She's glad that she was wrong. He's certainly attractive ( _incredibly_ so, in fact) and, well. It's been a while since she's gone home with someone.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, sounding genuine. She looks at him, _still_ a little stunned by how blue his eyes are, even though she's basically been staring into them all night. "It's just – you have a beautiful laugh."

She raises her eyebrows. She… hadn't been expecting that.

"Not exactly the first thing a guy usually says to me," she tells him.

"Well, it's pretty obvious that you're beautiful." There's a bit of a laugh in his voice as he says this, like he finds it a little funny that he even has to point this out, and it surprises her when her heart does a little flutter in response. He's hardly the first guy to drop a line like that on her, but it feels different coming from him. "You and your friends have been drawing stares all night. My friends weren't an exception. Neither was I, obviously." There's a bit of a smirk on his lips as he says this and it makes her stomach flutter. It's a good look on him.

"Obviously," she echoes. He holds her stare for a moment longer before glancing around the room. She follows his gaze. Wanda is sitting with one of Steve's friends at their table, the two of them leaning close together as they talk. And on the deck outside, his other friend is sitting on one of the lounges with Sharon under a heating lamp.

(She's not going to tell him that she, Wanda, and Sharon decided to take one of them home with them tonight, when it was clear that they kept gravitating toward each other.)

Flirting with Steve has been the most fun she's had out in a while, mostly because he didn't seem like he'd be this good at it. She'd caught him staring more than once, but whenever their eyes met, he'd just give her this little smile and look away. It didn't feel as if he was embarrassed about getting caught, or so sure that she would want to go over to him. That'd been enough to catch her attention, because she could usually read a person pretty well, but not this one. But when she'd walked by his table to use the bathroom, someone bumped into her and his hand shot out to steady her before she could even lose her balance. He looked at her from under those ridiculously long eyelashes of his, gave her this police smile when he asked if she was okay, which seemed innocent enough. Except, the way he squeezed her hip before letting go had definitely be deliberate, and it'd made her breath catch.

An hour later, _he_ was the one that ended up bumping into her, she'd gone to the bar to get more drinks, and she'd quickly decided that she liked how his hands felt on her. He'd given her this sexy little smile and offered to help her carry her drinks back to their table, and he and his friends ended up joining them at the booth five minutes later. They ended up sitting in the middle, his leg pressed against hers, and when his hand ended up on her thigh just above her knee, she sort of grinned up at him and he smiled and gave another little squeeze.

She definitely likes how his hands feel on her.

Like right now, when someone tries to squeeze by them and he slides his hand over the small of her back so that she doesn't get bumped into again. She ends up taking a step closer to him, all but pressing against his chest, and a warmth flutters low in her stomach as she watches his lips part, his eyes dark.

She sets a hand on his chest, because she's wanted to do it all night, and licks her lips when she feels the hard muscle just under the fabric of his shirt.

"Want to get out of here?"

He breathes out a laugh, smile bright. It's ridiculous that this makes her heart skip, but it does, and she doesn't hate how it feels. "Yeah." He squeezes her hip and she gnaws on her lower lip, presses herself a little closer. "Let's go."

... ...

She doesn't really want to open her eyes or even move at all – it's _too bright_ , and she's far too comfortable tangled up in the sheets – but she wants her phone to stop ringing, so she rolls onto her side and reaches for it on the side table, swiping to answer the call without checking who it is.

"Tell me you aren't home," Wanda says instead of a greeting, and Natasha raises her eyebrows, even though she knows the girl can't see this.

Natasha glances beside her at Steve, who'd rolled onto his stomach sometime during the night. He's got an arm thrown over her, and his half of the sheets had ended up falling down to his hips, so she's got a pretty good look at all of those muscles that his dress shirt had teased her with last night. She can't help but smile. "I'm not home," she promises. "Why?"

"Because I am. And I'm… not alone."

Natasha doesn't mean to let out this little squeal, but that's what happens, and she can't find it in herself to care how ridiculous it must've sounded. Wanda is kind of a romantic, and she's only ever gone home with someone she just met one other time, right after a pretty bad breakup, and that's only because she'd gone out without Natasha or Sharon to watch her. The girl had felt _awful_ about it the next day, so the fact that she went home with Steve's friend – she's pretty they called him Bucky last night – on her own is definitely a big deal.

"You owe us details," Natasha says, and then sucks in a soft gasp when Steve winds his arm around her and pull her close. "Did you get Sharon's text about canceling brunch?"

Wanda giggles. "Yes. She seemed pretty preoccupied when I left." Steve's hand slides down her thigh, hooking under the bend of her knee. He gives her that sexy little grin of his as he wraps one leg around his hip and presses his hand flat against the other, opening her up to him. Natasha's lips part. She should probably hang up now.

"Yeah, she did." Natasha's free hand grips the bedsheet when Steve rolls his hips.

"We'll just get lunch later," Wanda says. Steve dips his head, latching his lips onto the column of her neck.

"Sounds good," Natasha breathes, and then ends the call without saying goodbye. It's fine. Wanda will probably figure out why for herself, or Natasha will tell her the details at lunch. If Steve even lets her out of his bed by then, anyway.


	8. Day Eight

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "au where person A works at a big company and there is a company merge and Person A now works under Person B but whoops Person B went to A's high school and A dumped B and holy shit like now B is really hot and gives off this authoritative vibe and now we have great chemistry again what do?"

 **For:** i-cannot-escape-this-fandom

 **A/N:** _Okay_ , so, thank you for making yet another au that I want to explore. As if I didn't already have enough!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day eight  
**

"Just put us all out of our misery, alright?"

Natasha glances up from her laptop screen as Pepper walks into her office. She'd would ask what – or _who_ – Pepper is even talking about, but then she catches the way Pepper's lips quirk at the corners into this knowing little grin, and Natasha catches on pretty quickly.

"I ran into Steve just now," Pepper explains, sitting on the corner of Natasha's desk. She looks far too amused, and Natasha pretends like her heart doesn't do this little flutter in her chest at the mention of his name, the way it has for the last two weeks, ever since Stark Industries merged with Shield Tech. She'd known that Steve was working there – Tony had mentioned it when there'd been a post on Facebook, since Natasha never checked hers – but when the merger was first announced, she didn't necessarily put two and two together.

She didn't expect Steve would be one of the employees relocating to Stark Industries, but it makes sense. He's from New York, after all, and he went to high school with her and Tony. She wonders if her name came up when they were talking about the merger. That could explain why Steve didn't seem surprised to see her on that first day. They'd hugged and talked for a bit before the meeting, and she'd realized how much she missed just being with him. They emailed every now and the breakup, because it was a mutual thing and they wanted to stay friends more than they wanted to risk letting a long distance relationship make things tense between them. But obviously being with him in person is going to feel different, _better_.

"He kept drawing the conversation back to you. You know, all the flirting was cute at first, but now it's almost uncomfortable. You were sickeningly cute during our weekly meeting."

"What are you talking about?"

Pepper grins and shakes her head. "Don't play dumb. I'm talking about all of the _looks_ , and finishing each other's sentences. I know Tony asked you and Steve to work together on this one, but I don't think he asked you to be in complete sync with each other."

Natasha shrugs a shoulder. It wouldn't be the first time someone has said that she and Steve are always in sync. "We make a good team," she says.

"You'd make a good couple, too," Pepper says without missing a beat, grinning a little wider when Natasha shoots her a look. "I'm sure everyone in the office would agree. Maybe then you could stop making eyes at each other in the break room and making the rest of us feel like we need to eat elsewhere. Why don't you just suck it up and get together?"

Natasha doesn't want to laugh, but she does a little bit. "We already were together once," she points out.

"That was nowhere near an answer to my question." She sounds _smug_. Natasha rolls her eyes, even as she feels a warmth in her cheeks. "I'm just saying. Clearly, you both want to."

"Clearly," Natasha echoes flatly, arching an eyebrow. She knows that Pepper knows she's being sarcastic, but the girl still grins in satisfaction as her phone chirps.

"Tony," she says after a moment, typing out a reply as she slides off of the desk and onto her feet. She's already heading for the door when she turns around and raises her eyebrows pointedly at Natasha as she adds, "We're not done with this conversation, by the way." Natasha just smiles and shakes her head, and Pepper winks as she walks into the hallway.

And honestly, Natasha wouldn't put it past Pepper to have told Steve that she was still in her office, because no more than five minutes later, there's a knock on the door that makes her look up. Steve's in her doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. There's this little grin on his face, and she _knows_ that he's going to make a comment about her staying late to finish up, because he used to have to _nag_ her to do her homework each night. So she says, "Don't even go there, Rogers," before he's even opened his mouth, and he chuckles and steps inside her office. There's a chintz lounge in front of her desk, but he walks around it and sits on the edge of her desk instead without asking. Not that she'd say no.

"Pepper said you'd still be here." Natasha almost laughs. _Of course_. "Do you usually stay here this late?"

It's sweet that he's concerned, and not at all surprising, but it still makes Natasha smile. "Only when Tony decides he doesn't feel like following our budget for the month."

Steve smirks. (She's always, always thought he looked particularly sexy while doing so.) "So, you have a lot of late nights?" he asks, and she does laugh this time. "At least tomorrow is a day off. You can give yourself a break from Tony." He sort of smiles at her. "Unless you actually plan on spending time with us this weekend."

He's teasing her and she knows, but she throws her pen at him, anyway. Last weekend was his first weekend back in New York and he'd had people over for a barbecue. She was invited, of course, but she'd been in Washington D.C. for a conference and didn't land in Manhattan until late Friday night, so she didn't really feel up to going out then. Tony had said something to her yesterday about everyone getting together for dinner tomorrow night, which means that they'll end up going out for drinks afterward. She doesn't hate the idea.

"Why not?" she asks, standing up so she can pack her laptop. Steve's smile brightens. "Who else is going to drink you under the table?"

"That was _one time_ ," he laughs. "You usually get drunk before me."

"I am _awesome_ at holding down my alcohol, thank you very much. You just need a reminder."

"Oh, trust me. I remember." There's another smirk playing at the edge of his lips, and she zips her laptop bag closed, then presses her palms flat against the desk and leans in as she gives him a smirk of her own. Their faces no more than a foot apart. She thinks he might actually be able to hear how her heart is thrumming. "But I'd still like the reminder."

She hums, tilts her head a bit. "Are you sure? I know how touchy you get when you've got a good buzz going."

She's sort of asking him two things in one, and he sort of gives her this crooked smile because he can tell. "Only if it's with you," he says, and she smiles a little wider before she can quite help herself. She knows a promise when it's being made, and she knows that Steve always, _always_ keeps his promises.


	9. Day Nine

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Natasha, Wanda, Sharon, Maria, Darcy, Jane, and Pepper  
 **Prompt:** "Are you sure we're allowed to be in here?"

 **For:** mrshobbes

 **A/N:** Absolutely no plot whatsoever. Just a little fluff and lady bonding.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day nine  
**

It's not really a bachelorette party, but, a week before the wedding, Pepper decides that they should do _something_ for Natasha to celebrate, since Tony took Steve and the guys to LA for the weekend to watch the Dodgers. The trip is something of an engagement gift for Steve from Tony that they just didn't make time for until now, and the others tagged along because it's close enough to the wedding that they figured they might as well make it a bachelor trip or something. Natasha knows it's just another excuse for them to hang out, but whatever. It's cute how they pretend that they don't care about spending time together, even when they keep making plans. And Natasha hardly minds having a weekend to herself.

There's a hotel that just finished construction a few days ago, and the owner has been a vendor for Stark Industries for a few years now. He invited Pepper to stay in a suite for the night, a few days before the hotel is supposed to open. The staff will already be there, and so will a few other guests that their management team personally invited, too. It's kind of a test run, but mostly an excuse to celebrate the grand opening a few days early. The fact that all of the guests are pretty prominent faces in the public will be good press for him, too.

Pepper asks if she wants to see the suite with her, and it's pretty much a given that the girls are invited, too.

"Too easy," Sharon is saying, twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers as they all laugh. The five of them fit comfortable on the bed, that's how big it is, with Natasha and Sharon leaning up against the headboard and Wanda curled up between them with her head in Natasha's lap, and Darcy and Maria laying at their feet. And Jane and Pepper dragged the lounge over, along with one of the end tables, so they had somewhere to put the wine. "I had him in the palm of my hand with _two words_ ," Sharon laughs. "It was actually pretty sad."

"I'd expect a little more resistance from a felon," Jane comments, and Sharon laughs, leans over to clink their wine glasses together.

"Some girls are no better," Wanda says with a bit of a giggle. "You should hear some of the lines Pietro drops on them. _Used_ _to_ drop on them," she amends quickly when Darcy shoots her a (playful) glare. "And why were they so charmed by someone who _stole?_ "

"Your brother is a hard person to say no to," Darcy says, and Wanda wrinkles her nose, half-heartedly tossing a pillow at her. "Hey, you'll make me spill!"

"Is it just me, or is anyone else getting warm?" Maria asks as she sets her wine glass down on the table and then stretches her arms over her head. Her shirt rides up, revealing the scar she'd gotten from a knife that nicked her hip a few missions back. Darcy reaches over and brushes her thumb over it, and Maria gives her a little smile and shrugs.

"Well, if anyone wants to cool down," Pepper starts, pulling the keycard out of her pajama pocket, eyes twinkling, "I might have an idea."

... ...

"Are you sure we're allowed to be in here?" Jane's voice echoes through the empty glass room housing the swimming pool, and Pepper just grins at the girl and shrugs, pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it onto a lounge chair. Natasha wonders if she'd been planning this all along, and that's why she told them to bring bathing suits, _just in case_.

It's dark outside, but the lights from the pool are bright enough that it's fine. It's actually really nice like this.

Maria's already stripped off her shirt, too, and she walks over to kneel at the edge of the deep end, dipping her hand in the water. Wanda catches Natasha's gaze, a wide smile tugging at her lips, eyes gleaming, and Natasha chuckles and shakes her head, but doesn't say anything as Wanda slinks over to where Maria is standing. She's gotten a lot better at espionage now, but Natasha's fairly certain Maria is mostly just playing along as Wanda makes her way over to her. And then, as soon as Maria is standing again, Wanda sort of charges at her and sends them both splashing into the deep end, water spilling over the edge and hitting Natasha's legs. They're both laughing as they resurface, and Maria splashes Wanda with water.

Sharon comes up behind Natasha, gently nudging forward by her shoulders, and Natasha laughs and pulls her wrap off. Then Sharon grabs her hand and tugs her along, squeezes their fingers together as they jump over the edge and into the water.

 _Fuck_ , it's cold. It's also really, really refreshing.

Natasha can hear Wanda and Sharon laughing as Natasha resurfaces and combs her wet hair out of her face, and Maria grins at her, half-heartedly splashing water in her direction. She's about to do the same, but then Darcy's voice echoes around the room as she says, "Come _on_ , Jane! Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud."

"I'm still pretty sure not allowed to be in here," Jane says, but the girl has a smile on her face, too, so Natasha knows that she isn't against this at all.

Wanda lifts her hand out of the water, fingertips glowing as she flicks her wrist and sends a small wave of water over the edge, hard enough to reach Pepper, Jane, and Darcy where they're standing a few feet from the edge. Jane sucks in a gasp as she's doused in water from the waist down, and Wanda just flashes a smile, wiggling her fingers at them.

"Alright, alright!" Jane laughs, finally shrugging out of her cardigan and tossing it onto the floor, right onto the puddle that Wanda's made, but she doesn't seem to care.

Darcy _squeals_ when Jane pushes her in, sort of flails and yelps her name, but she's laughing too hard to actually be upset, so it's fine. Then Pepper gives Jane a little shove from behind and sends her almost face-first in the water, and then laughs when she tugs her shirt off and Sharon whistles. Pepper sends more water in Natasha's face when she jumps in, but she just laughs when Pepper apologizes – they're _swimming_ ; she's not going to get upset about her face getting wet – and tugs the elastic from Pepper's ponytail, tossing it out of the pool.

Jane yelps when Sharon swims over to her and tries to dunk her under the water, and Wanda flicks water at Maria and Darcy and then swims away, and both girls are laughing as they swim after her. Pepper playfully shoves at Natasha's arm, smiling widely.

"I think we'll have to do this again," Pepper says, glancing around the room as the girls' laughter echoes through the air. "Send the boys away for a few days so we can play."

Natasha laughs and nods. That can definitely be arranged.


	10. Day Ten

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "Bucky/Wanda-holiday party shenanigans (smut if you can)"

 **For:** claras-wintersoldier

 **A/N:** I tried to write a little bit of the actual party, but, the smut kind of took over.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day ten  
**

"Did this to me on purpose, didn't you?" he mumbles against her lips as he fumbles with the lock of the door, and she giggles, stretches on her toes and presses herself against him a little more as she licks at the seam of his lips. He groans, grasps her hips with his hands and presses her back against the wall. "Did it just to tease me."

He slides his hand down and underneath the hem of her skirt and fingers the top of her socks – over-the-knee, because they're cute and comfy, and also because James has always had a thing about her legs. She knows that when she wears these, he thinks about _this_ , about slipping his hands under her dress and slowly peeling her socks down her thighs, kissing every inch of skin as he goes. He loves doing it as much as she loves how it feels, and she feels the warmth coil at the base of her spine as he slides his hands up and down her thighs as he kisses her harder, presses his tongue against hers. He kneads at her skin, squeezing gently, _teasingly_ , and she makes this little noise, grips onto his arms and pulls him closer.

Sam and Sharon are going to _kill_ them when they find out what's about to happen in their guest bedroom.

Wanda can't find it in herself to care right now. Not with James pressing against her, surrounding her, hot and heavy and _hard_. She whimpers, slides her hands down his chest as her nails scrape against the material of his dress shirt, desperate to get it off.

"James," she whimpers. " _James_."

He hooks an arm around her and spins them around, guides her forward until the backs of her legs hit the bed, and then he lowers her onto the mattress and pulls his lips from hers. She sort of has to suck in a breath, lungs burning from their kiss, and he groans when she licks her lips. She can still taste a little bit of cinnamon off of his lips from the hot chocolate that Sharon served earlier. "You have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands to myself," he says, voice low and gravelly, the way it gets when he's incredibly turned on. He gives a little tug at the hem of her skirt, which she'll admit is probably a little short considering it's _snowing_ outside, but, well. It looks cute. "Do you even know how sexy you look tonight?"

She giggles. Her sweater has a _penguin_ on it. She knows that's not what he's talking about, but still.

He smirks as if hearing her thoughts, and then gently grasps her by her hips and slides her a little higher up the bed, dips his head and presses a kiss to the flat of her stomach through her sweater. She sucks in a soft gasp, tips her head back.

He slides her ballet flats off of her feet and then presses her thighs apart, lowers herself between her legs and looks up at her from under his eyelashes.

"This for me?" She watches as his hand slides up her thigh, disappears under her skirt – and then his thumb is swiping over the soaked front of her panties and her fingers grip onto the comforter, hips rolling. "Baby?" he asks, and she whimpers and nods, spreads her legs a little more, which makes him chuckle. "Think they'll be able to hear us out there?"

She _blushes_ , which is a little ridiculous, considering. She's not embarrassed enough by the idea to want to stop, though.

He knows it, too, because he just smirks a little more and flips her skirt up, then kisses the inside of her thigh, just above the top of her sock. She gnaws on her lower lip, and then he hooks his finger under the band and starts sliding down, slowly, his lips leaving wet kisses along the path. She fists the blanket between her fingers and tugs, trying not to squirm even as her body tingles and the warmth in her stomach coils tighter and tighter. It seems like _forever_ before he kisses the top of her calf and slides her sock all the way down to her ankle and off, and then he lifts his head and kisses the inside of her other thigh, starting it over, even slower this time, nipping every so often at her skin. She can feel how wet she already is.

He drops her other sock onto the floor, runs his hands up her thighs again and hooks his fingers under the waistband of her panties. She lifts her hips to help him slide her panties down her legs, and he drops them to the floor, too. Then he settles between her thighs and meets her gaze, and she combs one hand through his hair, tugging him forward.

He laughs, his breath hot against her slick heat, making her whimper. It's ridiculous how wound up she already is. Even more so considering there's a holiday party going on just outside the door, and it's very, very possible for their friends to be able to hear them.

But then he slides his tongue through her folds, licking a stripe up her center, and she _doesn't care_ about the sound she lets out.

He groans against her, making her tingle, making her _arch_ , and gently sucks her bundle of nerves between her lips. She's shaking, tugging at his hair and at the comforter, and then he's curling his tongue into her once, twice, and she whimpers and tosses her head to the side. He hooks one of her knees over his shoulder, flattens his tongue against her before sliding it through her folds again, over and over, with just enough pressure for it to drive her crazy. It feels so, _so_ good, and it's also not enough, and she presses her heel against his back to bring him closer. He chuckles against her, lightly circles her clit with his thumb as he curls his tongue into her again, and she cries out. He knows her and her body and when she's close, so when she's trembling, walls fluttering, he pulls his hand from her and almost completely pulls his mouth off, slowing easing his tongue into a gentle, barely there lick.

"You alright?" he teases, because he's a _punk_ like that, and she just lets out a breath and shakes her head because she can't even bring herself to _speak_ right now.

He tugs her hand from his hair and stands, and she whimpers, moving to reach for him, but then he's undoing the buckle of his belt and her heart skips in her chest as she watches him slide his pants and boxers down his hips.

She licks her lips as he moves on top of her, and then squeals in surprise when he hooks an arm around her and rolls them over. She has to brace her hands against his chest for balance because she's still teetering on the edge and her legs are still shaking, and when he moves her to straddle him, his hard length presses right against her folds and they both moan at the contact as she tosses her head back and rolls her hips. "Ready, doll?" he asks, voice gruff, and she whimpers and nods. Then he lifts her and sinks her over him, slowly, until he's pressing against her deliciously and so, so _deep_ , and she lifts her hips and then sinks down on him again, faster, harder, over and over again, making him groan her name.

" _Fuck_ , fuck," he mutters as she whimpers. Her walls flutter as he brushes against that sweet spot, and then he brings his metal hand between them, rubs gently at her bundle of nerves and making her gasp. She's close, _so close_ , and a few more circles of his thumb sends her tumbling over that edge.

She whimpers his name, falling forward onto his chest, and he grunts, grasps onto her hips and thrusts her down on him as he rolls his hips up, making her cry out.

"Again," he says, because he knows she can handle it, that she _wants_ it, and as soon as she nods, he thrusts up into her again and again, and her moans echo through the air as she feels him pushing her toward another orgasm.

Their friends are never going to let them live this down. She couldn't care less.


	11. Day Eleven

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "Can do please do one where Bucky and Wanda are decorating for the holidays"

 **For:** itsskyebeauty

 **A/N:** They are too cute for words, I swear.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day eleven**

"Can we get a Christmas tree?"

He laughs softly, tips his head down to smile at her. She's laying on his chest with his plaid button-down falling off of one shoulder, just barely covering the dip of her breasts, and her cheeks are still a little flushed from when he went down on her a little while ago, just because he wanted to, and because she sort of bit into her strawberry and blinked her eyelashes at him when he brought her breakfast in bed. She's so incredibly sexy, but also really freaking cute, and he doesn't know how she pulls it off. Not that it really matters. He just loves it.

So, yeah. There's really no chance of him telling this girl _no_ even if he wanted to, but especially not when she's biting her lower lip like that and giving him this little smile with her eyes all bright and sparkling and _excited_. "Yeah, that'd be fun," he says, smiling a little wider when she sort of squeals and then leans over to kiss him.

He didn't really think she meant they should get a tree _right now_ , because it's not even Thanksgiving yet. But a few days later, she comes home with an _armful_ of bags of decorations that she bought from the store, and he's laughing as he hops off of the couch to help her out. They're not just ornaments, either, though there are two bags of just those. But she's also bought some small, ceramic statues of woodland creatures with bows and Santa hats, and this fluffy garland he thinks is supposed to be fake snow, and a few throw pillows with cartoon polar bears and penguins and quotes about love and the magic of the holidays. There's a wreath of silver bells on their door, and fake poinsettias _everywhere_ , and she drapes twinkling lights along the ceiling and over the mantle. There are more lights for the tree, too, and he knows that their electric bill is going to be ridiculous with everything plugged in.

He hardly cares, though. Not when his girl is having so much fun with it.

"Is it too much?" she asks when they're on the couch that night, cuddled up under a blanket and sharing a mug of hot chocolate.

The place looks amazing, honestly, and she looks really, really pretty with the glow of the twinkling lights against her skin. So he shakes his head and leans in for a kiss, humming at the taste of cinnamon on her lips. "It's almost as gorgeous as you," he tells her, and she laughs and blinks at him with her hair sort of falling her face, and _fuck_. This girl is adorable.

A week later, they both happen to have the day off and no plans at all except to do laundry and a bit of cleaning. It's still a little early to be buying a tree, but he's done a little bit of research online and most sites say that they can get a tree now and still have it look healthy and pretty through most of December, as long as they take care of it right. One of those Christmas tree lots just opened up a few blocks from their apartment, and their building doesn't have anything against having real trees (he asked). So today is kind of perfect for it.

"Want to go pick out our tree?" he asks when she's washing up their dishes from breakfast and he's standing behind her with her back pressing against his chest, and she tilts her head back to meet his eyes, smiling brightly.

"Really?"

He hums and nods, brushes a kiss to her temple, and she gets his shirt wet when she turns around and grasps onto it to tug him down for a kiss, but he doesn't care.

She takes his hand and swings it between them as they walk through rows and rows and trees, and the couple running the lot is totally charmed by Wanda and not at all bothered by the fact that she's asking a dozen questions, because she's never picked out a tree before. And there's this moment where she's talking with the wife a few paces away, looking up at this really tall tree with her eyes wide and her smile bright and snowflakes sticking to her curls. He sort of just stops and stares at her, because she's really _beautiful_ and it's not like he could ever forget that, but sometimes it still catches him off guard, you know? The husband catches him looking and gives him a smile as if he knows exactly what Bucky's thinking.

"You love her," he says.

Bucky grins and nods. (Okay, maybe he knows exactly what Bucky's thinking.) "I do," he answers.

"Does she know?" Bucky nods again, and the guy actually looks pleased to hear this. "Good. That's good," he says, and Wanda glances at them, gives Bucky this little smile. He wonders if she can hear them. "Tell her all the time."

It wouldn't be the first time he's gotten that piece of advice, but it's still nice to hear it, maybe especially coming from this perfect stranger, who can tell by just _looking_ at them that he and Wanda are the real thing. So he tells the guy that he will and actually doesn't mind it when he pats Bucky's shoulder. He's gotten better at warming up to people a little faster.

He gets that from Wanda, obviously.

The tree they end up with is tall and full, and probably would've been a hell of a lot harder to get up to their second floor apartment if not for Wanda's telepathy, but they make it work. He helps her string the lights and the ribbon on, and then sits on a pillow on the floor and with all of their ornaments spread out on the carpet, watching as Wanda carefully places each one of them onto a branch. He might've teased her about taking this so seriously, except she looks really, really content right now, and he loves seeing her like this, and the way she blinks her eyelashes at him and _smiles_ when he tells her this makes his heart skip a little. He loves getting that look from her, and he'd do just about anything so he can always see it.

When she's finished, she climbs onto his lap and tucks herself against his chest, grips the material of his sweater in her hands. "How does it look?"

"Gorgeous, babe," he says. "I think we're still missing something, though."

She furrows her eyebrows at him, and he grins and tucks his hand into his pocket, pulls out a small bundle of mistletoe that he'd hidden when he found them in her bag of decorations before. She giggles when he holds it above their heads, grasps the material of his sweater and kisses him, soft and slow and sweet.

"I love you," he mumbles against her lips, and she smiles, says, "I love you, too," before combing her fingers through his hair and kissing him a little deeper.


	12. Day Twelve

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Clint/Laura and the kids  
 **Prompt:** photo prompt (see tumblr)

 **For:** myloveiamthespeedofsound

 **A/N:** Set when Lila is a baby, because I think Clint and Laura's relationship during the pre-Avengers years sounds so precious.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twelve  
**

Lila is four months old when December rolls around, and he and Laura have more or less fallen back into a routine. And by that, he means that things have been quiet enough at work that Nick doesn't need to call him in all the time and he can, you know, spend more than just two days in a row with his family. Cooper's school let out for winter break just a few days ago, so they don't have to get up first thing in the morning anymore, and Lila has even started to sleep through the night once or twice a week now, which is a plus. She wasn't all that fussy to begin with, but Cooper was already six months when he stopped waking them up at a ridiculous hour for his bottle, so if that can happen a little earlier with Lila, that'd be nice.

He wonders if that'll affect her waking up so early in the morning, though. Cooper has always liked to sleep in, but Lila is already a bit of an early bird. She'll just lay in her crib for a bit and babble up at the little stuffed animals dangling over her face from the baby mobile until one of them (usually Laura) goes to get her. He'd like that to stay a thing for a little longer. He can't say that he hates how it feels to wake up to the curtains drawn and sunlight on his back and his baby girl on the bed between him and Laura, her smiling face a foot from his.

She looks just like her mom when she smiles. He loves it.

She looks really freaking adorable in her Christmas onesie, too. It's white with little cartoon penguins building snowmen and sledding and stuff. And yeah, he picked it out for her when he went shopping the other day, and Laura teased him about already spoiling her, but whatever. It's true.

"…and Ms. M brought us frosting and all kinds of sprinkles and let us decorate our own cookies! It was so much fun," Cooper is telling them as he stands next to his mom on his stepstool and dries the dishes that she hands him. He's kind of just rubbing everything with the towel a few times and then sticking them in the strainer, but it's a start.

"We decorated cookies when I was little, too," Laura says as she twists off the water and wipes her hands on another towel. She looks totally adorable right now in her oversized sweater and snowman socks (Cooper helped her pick them out last year) and Clint kind of just wants to hug her and bury his face into her the way he did this morning. But he's also pretty content to sit at the table with his baby girl in his lap, especially when she keeps looking up at him and smiling for no reason. "But we used food coloring instead," Laura adds.

"Food coloring?" Cooper asks, confused.

Laura hums. "Yup. Remember the stuff we used to make your cake blue for your birthday? We can use that on cookies, too."

His entire face lights up, and he hops off of the stepstool, making Lila giggle. "Can we do that, Mommy?"

"Sure thing, baby. Go fix your bed first and then we can get started," she tells him, and he bobs his head in a nod before darting for the stairs. Laura turns to Clint, smiles and walks over, and Clint slides his hand over her hip and gives it a little squeeze as she kisses his forehead. "You going to make cookies with us?"

"Depends. Can I eat the dough?" She laughs – _god_ , he loves her laugh – and shakes her head, and he hums. "Well, then I guess I won't be baking today."

" _Baby_ ," she teases, and he chuckles, kisses her lips. Lila babbles between them, kicks her little feet, and then giggles like crazy when Laura plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

Catch him a few years ago and Clint would've never thought that he would be spending a Sunday with his family making sugar cookies, but this is life now and he loves it. Laura is feeding Lila while Clint helps Cooper roll out the tub of sugar cookie dough that's in their freezer, and then they take the cookie cutters and pop out a bunch of candy canes and Christmas trees. They're in the middle of pouring food coloring into mugs when his phone starts ringing on the kitchen counter, and he doesn't miss the way Cooper pauses for a second. He knows that sometimes when the phone rings it means his daddy has to go to work for a few days, but then he catches sight of the photo of him and Natasha and Lila showing on the caller ID and his face lights up again. "Auntie Nat!" he exclaims, nearly knocking over one of the mugs to grab the phone, but Laura just laughs and lets it slide.

Cooper chatters to Nat for almost a full five minutes to tell her about the cookies they're making and the Christmas tree they picked out and the holiday crafts that Ms. M helped them make at school. But then Laura sort of grins at him and raises her eyebrows, and he giggles and says, "I think I'm supposed to give the phone to Daddy now."

Clint laughs, ruffles Cooper's hair as he heads for the living room. "Hey, Nat."

"Hi. Sounds like Cooper loves having his dad home."

He chuckles. "Yeah, it's… been pretty great." He glances back at the kitchen. "Heard you have to be in Dubai for a week."

"God, don't remind me. But at least it's better than being undercover. Did Phil tell you whose company they might send me to work for in a few months?"

Clint smirks. "Yeah. Tony Stark? Sounds like fun."

"I know at least three assignments that need a marksman, so don't push it. Or do you want to tell Laura that you have to work on Christmas because you were being an ass?"

Clint just laughs, because he knows Natasha wouldn't actually do that to him, or to Laura and kids, for that matter. "And I'm guessing you'll be working that day?" he asks. Laura has been pushing him to get Nat to spend the holiday with them this year, and he came pretty damn close to getting her to agree when he pulled the _godmother of our daughter_ card.

"We'll see, Barton." He grins. At least it's not a no. "Anyway, the jet takes off in five. I just called to make sure that extended farm life hasn't killed you yet."

"Not yet. Don't die out there, alright, Romanoff?" he tells her, and she just laughs and hangs up.

He tucks his phone into his pocket as he walks back into the kitchen, and then he stops in the doorway, smiling. Laura and Cooper are sitting on the floor, the cookie sheets on top of the tablecloth that they've spread out, and Lila is lying next to them on her blanket, babbling and kicking her feet as Cooper chatters about how he wants to paint his Christmas tree.

Laura glances over her shoulder at him and smiles. He doesn't know she seems to get more beautiful every day, but she does.

He walks over to them and sits behind her. "Everything okay?" she asks.

He hums, leans over to kiss her lips. Cooper laughs a little, like he does sometimes when he thinks his parents are being silly, and Lila lets out a giggle. "Everything's perfect."


	13. Day Thirteen

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** Winterwitch - "I think I've been holding myself back from falling in love with you all over again." please?

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** I'll admit I was a little sad for a second for receiving a prompt that seemed 100% _angst_ , but then I was thinking, can I still turn this into fluff? _Challenge accepted_.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirteen  
**

She'd read that it was going to rain today. She hadn't read that it was going to _storm_.

The lights flicker again, and Wanda gnaws her lower lip, glancing out the window. It's dark, so she can't quite see the rain, but she knows from the sound of it that it's coming down in sheets, and the wind is throwing it against the windows hard enough to make them shake. She's never been particularly fond of storms, but it's not so bad if you're already indoors. She's curled up in the fleece throw that she'd given Pietro and Darcy as a gift last Christmas, with Dash, their kitten, curled up on her lap. Wanda had offered to check on the little guy while Pietro and Darcy are visiting Jane for the long weekend, and she'd just gotten to their apartment to when the storm rolled in. She thought it would pass in time for her to leave but, an hour and a half later, she's still here. It's not that big of a deal. Pietro and Darcy would hardly mind if she had to spend the night, but still. She would obviously rather be home.

"Are you sure you're alright?" James asks. His voice is a little muffled through the static, but she can still hear the concern.

She laughs a little, scratches Dash gently behind his ear. "I'm perfectly fine. Dash is here to comfort me."

"Oh, I didn't realize I was that easily replaced."

He's just teasing her and she smiles because she knows it. "Well, when it comes to cuteness, he's got you beat. But only by a little bit, if that makes you feel better." He chuckles and the sound of it makes her grin. "My brother already gave me his permission to make myself dinner here and stay the night. Actually, it was more of a command than a blessing."

"That's probably best," he tells her, even though he sounds a little bit annoyed that she can't come home right away. "It'd be crazy to drive in this storm."

"I know." She pulls the blanket over her shoulder. "I miss you."

"You're adorable, you know that?" he says with a laugh. She gnaws her lower lip, smiling. "I miss you, too."

She sets her phone on the couch after they've hung up, gently cradles Dash in her hands and brings him up to her face, nuzzling him into her cheek. He only ever lets her hold him like this after she's played with him long enough to actually tire him out. Which isn't often, because he's a kitten and has all this energy. Darcy always sends her clips of him darting around the apartment and says that he takes after his "father." Pietro just smirks and shakes his head. Wanda thinks it's cute that he lets Darcy get away with referring to a kitten as their son.

An hour later, Dash is fast asleep under a throw pillow (because that's where he wanted to be) and she's watching _The Little Mermaid_ when there's a knock on the door.

James is standing on the other side of the door with a crooked grin on his face, and a giggle bursts from her lips because he's _soaked_ in rainwater, and also because he's _here_.

She squeals and throws her arms around his neck, feels his chest rumble with a laugh as he lifts her up and into his arms. She doesn't even care that her shirt is getting wet. She just wraps her legs around him and kisses him, and he kicks the door closed behind them. "I thought it was crazy to drive in this storm," she teases against his lips.

"Well, I'm crazy for you, if that counts."

She giggles, kisses him again. "I would've been fine on my own."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have." He squeezes her hip a little. "Besides, it wouldn't be the first time I've gone out in a storm to get to you."

"What?" she asks with a little bit of a laugh, but he just clears his throat like he does when he's embarrassed, and gently pries her off of him. He doesn't seem upset, though, so she just grips onto the front of his shirt as he shrugs out of his coat, smiling up at him. "James, what did you mean by that?"

"Nothing." She raises her eyebrows and his lips twitch at the corners as he glances away. He's cute when he's flustered. "It's nothing. You probably don't even remember it."

She stretches up on her toes and presses a kiss to his lips, and he wraps his arms around her again, pulls her close. "So remind me."

He's fighting a smile, she can tell, but a second later, he breathes out a bit of a laugh. He sounds a little embarrassed now, but not enough for her to feel worried about it. "It was a while ago, back when we were both…" He trails off, but it's not hard to put the pieces together. Back when they were both at the hands of Hydra. She hugs onto him a little tighter. "When you and your brother first signed up for the experiments, and you had less control over yourself, they brought me in to help contain you, if anything got out of hand. Which it did." His lips twitch into a grin. "Even though you both volunteered for all of this, there were stories about how much of a handful you and your brother were. Mostly you, though."

Despite herself, she giggles. That she does remember. And it's easier to laugh about it now, now that that's so far behind her, behind both of them.

"I don't think you ever noticed me. There were so many doctors and scientists and other agents. But I… I paid attention to you." He slides his metal hand up her back, tucking it into her hair. "I always wondered what could bring such a bright, beautiful young thing like you to walk willingly into their hands. I never understood that. Then you got free one day, when the experiments started becoming too much. Overpowered the guards and ran outside right in the middle of a storm. They sent me after you." She feels her heart flutter, grips onto his shirt a little tighter. She only vaguely remembers this, but it's _strange_ , hearing it coming from him. "When I caught up with you, you were just standing in the middle of the forest. You were soaked in rainwater, and I could hear you crying. You sounded _broken_. But when you looked me in the eyes, all I saw was how bright you were, how beautiful and resilient."

"How could you tell?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper. Because she doesn't remember feeling resilient when she'd been at the hands of Hydra. She'd just wanted to survive the hell they kept putting her through.

"Your eyes," he answers. "I can't explain it, but I could tell by the way you were looking at me. I'd never seen anything like you, and I…" He breathes out a laugh. "I think part of me must've fallen a little bit in love with you right then and there. Because you were a _fighter_ , even with everything they were putting you through. I admired that about you."

"James," she says. She's not crying, but she feels a little bit like she might soon enough. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "To be honest, I'd forgotten about it at first. But when I saw you again, I knew it was you. And I think part of the reason I avoided you at first was because I was holding myself back from falling in love with you all over again. You'd turned your life around and I didn't want to bring you back down just for me."

"James," she says again, stretching up to press a kiss to his lips. She feels him smile, and he cradles the back of her head, tips his head and kisses her a little harder, a little deeper.

He pulls away after a moment, when her lungs are starting to burn, and leans his forehead to hers. "Even back then, I was chasing after you," he says, and a giggle bursts from her lips. "I'm never going to stop, though."

" _Good_ ," she says, and he chuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead.


	14. Day Fourteen

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** I'd also like to re-nominate Romanogers + #58 from the writing prompts meme ("I was going to kiss him, but then my friend texted me about going to Taco Bell, and, well, there's this cashier that works there who is way cuter, so I bailed on the rest of the date.") except instead of Taco Bell can it be Starbucks and Pepper texting Natasha that the hot barista from Starbucks was asking about her since they're usually together when they go to that particular Starbucks and Steve, while making her drinks, always draws these cute little quick doodles of her on the side of her cups.

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** So there is a lot of fluff and no plot, which is nothing new, _but_ , I have discovered a love of writing in text conversations. I need more of it in my life.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fourteen  
**

Pepper | 9:03PM – _your hot barista is here_

Pepper | 9:03PM – _still looks as hot as ever, obviously_

Pepper | 9:05PM – _hey he asked about you_

Pepper | 9:05PM – _and he wrote your name on my cup "out of habit"_

Pepper | 9:05PM – _that's too fucking cute to be offended by_

Pepper | 9:08PM – _Nat!_

Pepper | 9:10PM – _NAT!_

Pepper | 9:10PM – _HOT BARISTA ASKED ABOUT YOU_

Pepper | 9:12PM – _oh wait, you're on your date aren't you?_

Nat | 9:16PM – _yes I am_

Nat | 9:16PM – _and his name is Steve_

Pepper | 9:17PM – _Steve is probably hotter than your date_

Pepper | 9:17PM – _just saying_

... ...

Natasha stares at Pepper's texts. She feels like a bitch for thinking it, but, yeah. Steve is definitely hotter than her date. Not that that's a good reason to just bail, especially since the night hasn't been bad. Her date is polite and friendly, and the movie they watched was cute, even if it's something she wouldn't have picked out for herself. But she knows that if she was genuinely interested in this guy, she wouldn't be stalling in theatre bathroom so she can think of a decent excuse to wrap up their date and catch Steve before Starbucks closes.

Another buzz pulls her from her thoughts as a picture from Pepper lights up her screen: her coffee cup with a bikini doodled on the side, next to Natasha's name.

Pepper | 9:18PM – _also why would he doodle this on "your" cup?_

Pepper | 9:18PM – _is this like a cute thing or something that warrants me being the Mom Friend again?_

Nat | 9:18PM – _it's_ _neither_

Nat | 9:18PM – _I showed him a pic of my scar from camp that one summer because he asked why I don't like beaches and then he made a bikini comment_

Pepper | 9:19PM – _so it's definitely a cute thing_

Pepper | 9:19PM – _ALSO you're getting Mom Friend Pepper anyway, but why are you over there and not here with Hot Barista Steve who doodles your inside jokes on your coffee cup?_

Natasha gnaws on her lower lip, glancing up at her reflection and feeling her stomach flutter a little when she catches the pink starting to color her cheeks. They've been talking about Steve for _two minutes_ and she's already about to blush.

God, she's pathetic.

... ...

Fifteen minutes later, she pulls into a parking stall in front of Starbucks and cuts the engine, flips the visor down and swipes a fresh coat of lip gloss on, because her lips feel a little chapped and also because she's stupid enough to actually _care_ if Steve will notice. Not that he'd have anything to say about it, maybe other than a teasing comment, because that's kind of their thing. That's how she knows she's kind of screwed here. She's never given a damn about what someone might think about how she looks until Steve, and the fact that Steve is the last person to judge a person's appearance is kind of the reason why she wants him to notice hers, which is ridiculous. All of this is _so damn_ _ridiculous_ , but whatever.

She doesn't care. Not when Steve gives her that _smile_ of his as soon as she walks in, that smile that makes her heart flutter and her skin tingle and pulse thrum.

(Again, _ridiculous_.)

His eyes glance down her body – to the leather pants that hang _low_ on her hips and the top that falls off of her shoulders and knots at the dip of her cleavage – and her lips tug into a grin. She's more than used to people staring at her, which doesn't make it _okay_ , necessarily, but she's stopped caring. She likes how it feels when Steve looks at her, though.

She watches his eyes pause at her hip for a moment longer, and she knows he's thinking about the scar that she'd shown him.

"Hi," he greets, his gaze sliding back up to meet hers as she reaches the counter.

"Hi," she echoes.

His lips quirk. "You look beautiful. Well," he breathes out a bit of a laugh, glances down as he wipes at a spot on the counter, "you're always beautiful."

"Steve," she says, and he shrugs a shoulder, grins at her like he _knows_ that that's all it takes to send her heart thudding in her chest. God, he's cute. She places her palms on the counter, leans in ever so slightly as she pretends to busy herself with observing the menu, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes flicker down to her shirt again for a second.

"So, am I making your usual?" he asks, already grabbing a coffee cup in the largest size and writing her name across the side in his ridiculously artistic penmanship.

"Surprise me," she says, making him look at her. Her lips quirk at the edges. "Sometimes you have to try something new, right?"

His eyes _sparkle_ , smile widening ever so slightly. "Yeah, sometimes you do," he agrees, making her heart flutters again. She wasn't exactly talking about coffee and she likes that he caught on. Not that she was afraid he wouldn't. He's always just _understood_ her, and she's spent too long pretending that it wasn't as big of a deal as it should be. "And speaking of trying new things, Pepper told me you had a date," he adds as he busies himself with writing the specifics of her drink on her cup, even though he doesn't really need to, since he's going to make it himself. She grins at this, and then glances over her shoulder at where Pepper is sitting with Tony, Maria, and Sam at a table in the corner. They're all smiling at her.

 _Jerks_.

"I did, and now I'm here," she says as she turns to look at him again. She knows he'll understand what she means, and when he glances at her, she smiles, leans in to tuck a $5 under his collar, because he never actually lets her _pay_ for her drink. He holds her gaze when her fingertips graze his skin. She smiles and pulls away.

"Well, I'm always happy to supply your caffeine addiction." This laugh bursts from her, and she doesn't care how ridiculous she sounds. It makes him smirk and he looks totally _sexy_ doing so. She wants to say something, _anything_ to keep that look on his face, but she hears someone step into line behind her. "I'll see you around?" Steve asks.

She just winks and turns on her heels, but he lets out this little laugh that makes her grin like an idiot as she walks away.

The cardboard sleeve on her cup has a doodle of a table for two with a flower arrangement in the middle and hearts forming a question mark, his number written underneath. It's cheesy and stupid and _ridiculously cute_ , and she tucks it into her purse to keep it safe.

... ...

Pepper | 10:21AM – _so how was your date with Steve?_

Pepper | 10:26AM – _Nat?_

Pepper | 10:27AM – _Nat?_

Pepper | 10:28AM – _are you really still asleep?_

Pepper | 10:28AM – _I know you hate mornings and it's a Sunday but come on_

Pepper | 10:32AM – _wait_

Pepper | 10:32AM – _YOU'RE STILL WITH HIM AREN'T YOU?_

Pepper | 10:33AM – _if he doesn't make you breakfast I'm going to be pissed_

Pepper | 10:33AM – _or at the very least a cup of coffee_

Pepper | 10:33AM – _he obviously knows how you take it_

Nat | 10:34AM – _he knows how I take lots of things_

Nat | 10:34AM – _and damn right he's making me breakfast right now_

Nat | 10:34AM – _it's the only reason I let him out of bed_

Pepper | 10:34AM – _that's my girl_


	15. Day Fifteen

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** mistletoe

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** I have like, fifty different versions of how they get together, so here's yet another one!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fifteen  
**

It's kind of their thing.

The first time it happens is half a year after New York, standing in a ballroom in London with a gun strapped to her thigh and Clint's voice in her ear, drawling about the partygoers in a _terrible_ English accent that almost, _almost_ makes her crack a smile as she stands at the bar. She can see him standing against the wall, a glass of bourbon tipped in front of his mouth to hide his mumbling, and few paces away from him, Steve is standing outside on the balcony with one hand tucked into his pocket and a polite smile on his face as the brunette with him chatters on. Natasha twirls the stem of her champagne flute between her fingers as she watches. That's what she's supposed to do, according to Nick. Espionage isn't something that Steve will be assigned to often – he's too recognizable, and even with his dye job tonight, a few people have looked twice at him – but, it's still essential to learn in their business.

He's doing well. That doesn't really surprise her, though. Steve is a quick study.

A quarter to midnight, the flash drive is tucked into the inside pocket of Clint's blazer, and she slips away from the bar and makes her way out of the room. The hallway is empty, but she still pretends to busy herself with checking her phone, forgetting to call for the button for the elevator until Steve comes to stand beside her.

He gives her a small smile, holds his arm out for her to step on the elevator first. "Did you have a good night?" he asks, tone casual.

"Nothing exciting," she says (meaning: the mission went as planned) and he nods in understanding. She tilts her head upward. "Mistletoe."

He glances at her quickly and she almost smiles at the crack at his cover. Because right now, the surprise on his face is genuine. It's almost endearing. She lifts her eyebrows at him and he tips his head back to see the bundle of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling of the elevator. He looks at her again, a crooked grin on his face, and this time she does smile.

Technically their covers aren't over until they're back home, but it's fine. She'll let it slide just this once.

She steps forward, sets a hand against his chest and stretches up, catching the soft, sharp breath he lets out before her lips press against his. He slips a hand over her waist and squeezes ever so slightly, and she kisses him a beat longer than she would a perfect stranger, but she doesn't care.

She lets that slide, too.

... ...

She stands in a different ballroom a year later, sipping from the glass in her hand as Tony is on stage, thanking everyone for the big turnout and listing off the schools whose science departments are going to be helped by the money raised tonight. The speech is touching and was definitely crafted by Pepper, but Tony is charming enough to make it his own.

"What about the blonde in the tiara?" she asks, earning a slight smirk from Steve as he tilts his head at her, eyebrows raised. She shrugs. "She's making a fashion statement."

He just chuckles and shakes his head, which is usually the reaction she gets with this game that they play. She doesn't really mind, though. She's mostly just glad that he's here, even if that means _she_ is, too. This is hardly the kind of thing she'd make an appearance at if it wasn't for some kind of op, but Tony had nagged her for a week to come, since everyone else had already responded except for her and Steve. "I thought your mission was to make sure he gets out of the house, makes some friends," Tony had said when he showed up at her apartment last night with a dress picked out for her by Pepper. "It's won't sit well with your dear Cap if you insist he have some fun then skip out on a party yourself," he'd pointed out.

She'd just rolled her eyes at Tony, but whatever. She doesn't mind a free dinner and wine.

"You're not going home with anyone in this room if you spend your whole night talking to me," she tells Steve with a bit of a laugh, because he's sort of been hovering around her all night. Not that she's bothered by it. She's liked the company, actually.

He shrugs a shoulder. "I'll try again tomorrow."

"We leave for Bali tomorrow."

He cracks a smile, shrugs his shoulder again as if to say, _oh well_. She's grinning as she rolls her eyes, and then he says, "Mistletoe," and she glances up. His lips quirk at the corners as she meets his gaze again and she breathes out a bit of a laugh, feels her heart do this stupid little _skip_ when his hand slides over her hip, tugging her closer to him.

He dips her forward ever so slightly as he kisses her, runs his tongue along the seam of her lips and presses his hand against the small of her back, pressing her to him even tighter.

She makes a soft, barely there noise of surprise when he _nips_ at her bottom lip, and she feels his mouth curve into a smirk against hers. He's gotten better at this. A lot better.

(She still teases him about it a few months later, when they're driving a stolen truck to New Jersey, and he laughs and plays along because that's just another game of theirs.)

... ...

SHIELD falls, and she runs, and it takes him a few months to find her again, but eventually he does. He finds her even when she's trying to hide.

She's impressed. She's also missed him.

They're in a small, old town in Italy with a name that even she stumbled on pronouncing the first handful of times. She's stepping out of the bakery when she catches a glimpse of his silhouette standing under the dim glow of a lamppost, hands tucked into his coat pocket and a small, crooked smile on his face, and her breath catches in her throat. He crosses the street before she can remind herself to _move_ , and then he's standing in front of her, blinking down at her as he holds her gaze. His eyes seem bluer than she remembers, somehow.

"Hey," he says, voice light, breath coming out in a puff against the crisp air. Her blood thrums. It's ridiculous how much she's just missed the sound of his voice.

"Hey," she echoes.

His eyes slide down the length of her hair, which she's braided off to the side, tucked under a beanie. It's longer than when he last saw her, and it's stupid that her heart does this little flutter in her chest when he reaches out at tugs the end of her braid gently, lips tugging a little wider at the corners. He's always had a thing for her hair, even if he never said.

She could always tell, though. Her lips quirk into a smile as she raises an eyebrow. He breathes out a bit of a laugh.

"You're a hard person to find," he tells her, but he doesn't sound upset.

"That was the whole point to this."

He hums softly and nods, still not quite meeting her eyes. She doesn't know why that tugs at her chest the way it does. "So, did you find yourself?"

She takes a step closer and shrugs one shoulder. His gloved fingers are still playing with the end of her braid. "No," she says, voice so softly that she thinks he won't catch it, but his eyes flicker onto hers. She grins a little. "Guess I got too used to working with a partner."

The _brightness_ that touches his expression makes her breath catch, makes her skin tingle. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her in. "Losing your touch, huh?" he teases.

She hums, stretches on her toes and presses herself closer, almost crushing the pastries in her bag between them, but she hardly cares. "Are you going to help me find it again?" she asks, nudging her nose against his. His breath is warm against her face as he laughs, and she gnaws on her lower and tips her head up. "Mistletoe," she whispers.

He glances up, too, and then grins at her. "Is this the only way I'll get you to kiss me?" he asks, and she's laughing as she slants her lips against his. He tastes just as she remembers.

... ...

He's already grinning as she takes his hand and tugs him under the bundle of mistletoe hanging in the doorway of their kitchen.

"Your turn," she says, and he grasps her hands in his and pulls her close, thumb playing with the ring on her finger as he kisses her breathless.


	16. Day Sixteen

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,300  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "Bartender AU where person B is a bartender and A just got over a really bad breakup and is drinking their sorrows away and get totally shitfaced. Because A was there alone B feels obligated to take care of them and just imagine the fluff- winterwitch (bonus if you use vision as the ex in some way cuz I have a bone to pick with him after what he said to Wanda about people being afraid of her)"

 **For:** i-cannot-escape-this-fandom

 **A/N:** I'm convinced that Bucky probably swears a lot in his head because Wanda is too cute to handle, so. Beware of swearing.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day sixteen  
**

He noticed her when she first walked in. Of course he did. Because she's beautiful, but also because her eyes were a little red and puffy and her eyelashes still dotted with tears when she sat down at the bar, and when she ordered, she'd given him this sad little smile that made his chest tighten. She's hardly the first person he's to come into the bar in tears, but there's something about her that feels _different._ That makes it harder for him to let it be when he asked what was wrong and she just gnawed on her lower lip and shook her head. He lets it slide, though, because he respects her privacy. As much as he wants to know what's wrong – and _god_ , he does, because he can't handle that _look_ on her face – he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable by prying. It's not his place to get involved if she doesn't want him to. That's what he tells himself, anyway, as she sits there quietly and sips on her drink.

Two hours and three drinks later and he's quickly starting to think that he simply _doesn't care_. He can't just leave her by herself like this. He can't.

"Hey there, doll," he says gently, leaning an arm on the counter, and her eyes are wet when she turns to look at him. _Fuck_. "Hi."

"Hi," she echoes, voice soft and breathy. Her hair is sort of falling in her face, a few strands sticking to her cheeks, which are a little damp with her tears and totally flushed from the amount of alcohol she's been drinking. He feels his chest squeeze. Maybe it makes him an ass for event thinking this, but, she looks beautiful even when she's been crying.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?" he asks, offering a small smile. She shakes her head, but he lifts his eyebrows, holding her gaze. She gnaws on her lower lip. (Fuck, that's cute.)

"What's wrong is that I haven't gotten another drink yet," she tells him, voice light and lips quirking at the corners as she slides her empty glass towards him.

"No more, doll," he says. She frowns at him, this little wrinkle between her eyebrows. Somehow he can tell that she's not actually _upset_ , though, so he lets out a little bit of a laugh and gently pries her glass from her hand, setting it behind the counter and out of her reach. "I'm not going to let you get drunk out of your mind just because you're upset."

"I'm not drunk." His lips tug at the corners. "I'm not!" she insists, and he almost chuckles. He shouldn't find her as adorable as he does, but whatever. "I'm still trying to get there."

"Yeah? And why are you trying to get drunk?"

"Just because," she says. This time he laughs, and she lets out a huff. "Can I just please have another drink?"

"That's not a good idea."

She sighs, crossing her arms as she glances away. She seems pissed, but, for whatever reason, he knows that she's not actually pissed at _him_. And she hasn't snapped at him to leave her alone yet, so he just stares at her, trying not to smile at the way she's pouting and staring down at the floor. "If I wanted good ideas, I would've come with my friends."

"No one knows you're here?" She shakes her head, sets her elbows on the counter as she slumps forward, resting her chin in her hand. "Want me to call one of them for you?"

" _No_ ," she says quickly, and he blinks. She doesn't sound annoyed. She sounds _upset_. "I don't want to hear how they were right all along and I was being stupid."

"They'd say that to you?"

There's a pause. "No. They love me too much," she admits. That makes him grin a little. "That doesn't make it any less true."

Her voice is soft again, barely above a whisper, so he leans in a little more. She doesn't seem to mind, though. "Doesn't make what any less true?" he asks

She lets out a laugh, sharp and short and a little bitter. It's an odd sound coming from her. Not that he really even _knows_ her, but he can tell that she's not usually like this. That she's not usually this upset. She rubs her lips together, blinks a few times as she brings her hand up and wipes at the corner of her eyes. _Fuck_. He doesn't think he can handle seeing her cry right in front of him. Instinctively _– impulsively_ – he reaches for her other hand, watches her suck in a soft breath as soon as his fingertips touch hers, eyes flickering to meet his. She furrows her eyebrows a little, but after a moment, she squeezes onto his fingers a little tighter. His smile widens ever so slightly as he runs his thumb over her knuckles. Her lips part.

She wipes at her cheek with the edge of her sleeve. "I'm naïve," she says, voice cracking.

His heart skips. "Who said that?" he asks, and he surprises himself with how demanding he sounds. It catches her off guard, but only for a moment.

"My ex. And he – he didn't exactly _say_ it. But, he always told me that I had to be careful about how everyone saw me. That I never took my reputation seriously."

Hearing this shouldn't piss him off as much as it does, but he doesn't care. "Who cares?" She breathes out a bit of a laugh, but he grips her hand a little harder. Not enough for it to hurt, but enough to make her look at him again. "Seriously, who cares? Someone would be crazy not to see you as anything other than incredible."

Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and it takes a moment for his words to sink in. Shit. He didn't mean to just blurt that out.

He clears his throat a little, glancing away, but when he tries to pull his hand back, she holds onto it even tighter. Maybe he didn't totally creep her out. "You don't even know me," she says, voice soft. But there's something a little brighter about it now. He looks back at her to find a beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. _Fuck_ , she's beautiful. It's ridiculous.

"Don't need to know you to see that it's true," he says with a shrug. Her smile widens. He decides that he wants her to smile all the time. "Not that I don't want to get to know you."

She gnaws on her lower lip as her smile spreads, eyes sparkling. She sort of ducks her head and makes her hair fall in her face again, then brings her free hand up to tuck it behind her ear as she meets his gaze again. She looks a little bit like she might start crying again, but it doesn't make his stomach curl. It makes it flutter. "I want that, too," she says, after a bit of a pause, and then sort of giggles to herself, and damn if it isn't one of the best things he's ever heard. He decides he wants her to laugh all the time, too. "To get to know you, I mean."

"Yeah?" he asks. She blinks her eyelashes all slowly at him, nodding. _Fuck_. That's already doing things to him. "I'd like that." He grins. "But I'm still not getting you another drink."

She laughs again (and he already likes it _way too much_ ). "That's a little bit ironic coming from a bartender, isn't it?"

He shrugs a shoulder, offers her a grin. "Drinking your sorrows away just didn't seem like the kind of thing that would help you," he tells her.

"No, it isn't. I just wanted to forget everything," she admits, eyes sparkling as she smiles at him. "I want to remember tonight, though. I want to remember you."

He lifts her hand, brushes a kiss to her knuckles and grins a little wider at the way her breath catches. "You will. I promise."


	17. Day Seventeen

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha ft. James and Tatiana  
 **Prompt:** "Romanogers + James + Tatiana: 5 year old James and 3 year old Tatiana "help" Natasha get ready for a date (Steve is not allowed in the room for this and gets denied by James when he tries to check in on them)"

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** Writing this has convinced me that James and Tatiana continue to help Natasha get ready for her dates even when they grow up. Just, _imagine it_.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day seventeen  
**

"Want to help me with the zipper, baby?"

"Okay!" Tatiana exclaims, climbing onto the bed so that she can stand behind her mother. Natasha would be worried about her standing so close to the edge of the mattress, but her brother is right next to her, watching her as carefully as he always does. Besides, she's jumped off from higher places before. They're not sure if she just doesn't realize she could fall off and get hurt when she climbs onto things, or if she simply doesn't care, but it scares the hell out of her and Steve every time, even if she's surprisingly _graceful_ for a three-year-old and usually just brushes it off just fine if she happens to stumble. The recklessness is _all_ her father, and probably a little from Natasha, too. But she still teases Steve about it, anyway.

Tatiana's little fingers tickle her skin as she fumbles with the clasp, but Natasha just chuckles and lets her take her time to get the zipper all the way up.

"Thank you," Natasha tells her, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek that always makes her giggle. It always makes James laugh, too. _God_ , she loves how her kids' laughs sound like together. She turns around and takes a step back, smoothing her hands over her dress. "What do you think?"

"You look really pretty, Mommy," James tells her, and Tatiana bobs her head in a nod, clapping her hands. Natasha smiles and glances at her reflection in the mirror. James had been the one to pick out the dress – dark blue (his favorite color) that falls off of her shoulder and dips _just enough_ in the back to be tasteful yet teasing. Not that her five-year-old would've thought about that part, but still. James has an artist's eye for detail, just like his dad, and his favorite part about this dress is the "cool" (geometric) cut to the neckline. "I like it!"

"Do you think Daddy will like it, too?" They both exclaim _yes_ , and Natasha laughs, tucks her hair behind her ear. "Who wants to help me pick out a necklace?"

"I do!" Tatiana says, and Natasha's heart sort of _skips_ a beat when the girl – of course – jumps off of the bed, and bouncing on her feet and bounding for Natasha's vanity. James is up just as quickly and Natasha is smiling as she shakes her head and follows them.

Tatiana already has Natasha's jewelry box open, trying to look through the necklaces, but the chains are starting to get tangled together. She lets out this little huff and James takes over for her, fingers quickly working out the knots. Natasha just watches in amusement. They're cute together. Of course they are. Natasha had been worried when they'd found out that they were having a girl for a lot of reasons ( _god_ , look at her upbringing; she didn't have a clue how a little girl is supposed to be cared for), but not knowing if James would like getting a little sister was one of the big ones. It was mostly just hormones, because she _knew_ it was a stupid thing to worry about in the first place. As if James would've be anything _but_ a doting brother. It's cute to watch, too, because Tatiana is this little thing with so much energy and confidence, and James is always right behind her whenever she needs him.

She doesn't ever have to ask for help, either. He just jumps right in, like right now, helping her sort through the necklaces.

And when he finally gets them untangled, Tatiana wraps her arms around him in a hug and thanks him. Natasha and Steve are always sure to stress on that part. It's polite, yes, but it's also because James and Tatiana are more than a little spoiled. She and Steve want to give their kids the world, you know? But they want to make sure they appreciate it, too.

"Find one you like?" Natasha asks, peering over their shoulders.

"This one!" Tatiana announces, holding a necklace up with both hands. It's one of the gaudier pieces of jewelry that Natasha owns, to go with some of the grander gowns that she's worn for one event or another. But it still goes well with her dress without looking too flashy. Natasha's actually impressed at the choice.

"I like that one, too." She takes it from Tatiana and drapes it around her neck, clasping it into place, and then reaches inside another jewelry box for the matching earrings.

She can hear Steve coming up the stairs before the kids do, so she's already smiling when Steve's walking right to the bedroom door and James sort of shouts, "Dad, no!" and scrambles to keep his father from walking in the room. "You can't come in, remember?"

Natasha hears Steve laugh. "Your mother was just teasing earlier when she said that, buddy."

"No," James insists. "You're not supposed to see her yet. It's bad luck!"

This time, Natasha laughs, too. She doesn't know where he got that from, but it's _cute_. "I don't know," Steve says, amused. "I'm feeling pretty lucky."

"You can't come in yet, Daddy!" Tatiana exclaims.

"You too, T?" Tatiana giggles and nods, even though Steve can't actually see her. Natasha can picture his smile as he scoffs. "I didn't realize everyone was against Daddy today."

"Rules are rules, Cap," Peter chimes in from the other side of the door, and both James and Tatiana _gasp_ in excitement. They didn't know that he was the one watching them tonight. James throws the door open and Peter pokes his head out from behind Steve, flashing a wide smile. Tatiana _squeals_ , running right at him as she exclaims, "Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter!"

Peter laughs, scooping her up the second she jumps into his arms, and he hugs James against his side. "What's up?"

James and Tatiana are sort of talking over each other because they're so excited, and it makes Steve chuckle as he takes uses the distraction to step around them. He's got that _sexy_ little smirk of his on his face as he walks over to her, eyes twinkling as they slide down her body, and her lips quirk at the edges. "Eyes up here, soldier," she teases, grasping his chin with her fingers and tilting his gaze onto hers. He slides his hands over her hips, gives them a little squeeze as he pulls her to his chest and kisses her lips, short but sweet. "Ready?"

He nods, slides a hand over the small of her back as he grabs her coat off of the bed with his other. "Call us if you need anything," Steve tells Peter, even though the kid has done this _dozens_ of times. Still, Peter grins and gives him a two-fingered salute, and Steve leans in to peck Tatiana's cheek. "Goodnight, baby girl."

"Goodnight, kiddo," Natasha tells James as she ruffles his hair.

"Have fun," James says.

Steve kisses Natasha's temple, making her bared skin tingle as his fingertips trace up her spine. "We will," he promises.


	18. Day Eighteen

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~900  
 **Characters:** Peter/Ava  
 **Prompt:** post-battle fluff

 **For:** mccuties

 **A/N:** I miss talking about these precious cinnamon rolls.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day eighteen  
**

He's felt worse, which actually means a lot right now because he feels like _crap_. His injuries actually aren't that bad. There's a bruise on the side of his ribs that just hurts no matter which way he tries to move, and he has a cut along his jaw stings like hell when Natasha blots at it with alcohol to get it cleaned, but that's all. Well, he's sore, too, but luckily it's the weekend and he can just chill out at Steve and Natasha's place all day today until he feels mostly alright to go home. Aunt May will probably notice that he's sort of banged up, but it isn't really a secret that he's a clumsy person. He'll tell her that he just took a bad fall off of his skateboard and she'll believe him, then give him another lecture about being careful.

He kind of feels bad about camping out on Steve and Natasha's couch, except not really, because they were the ones to insist he stay for the day.

Steve and Natasha have some lunch thing to make an appearance at for Stark Industries, though, and they're letting him hang out in the apartment while they're gone. It wouldn't be the first time, and obviously they trust him to be there on his own. So he's a little surprised when he hears the front door being unlocked barely ten minutes after they've left.

"Nat," he starts with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder, "I said I'm fine—"

"Really, Parker?" Ava asks as she steps inside, lips tugging into a smile as he meets her eyes. "Because from here, it looks like you got your ass handed to you."

He laughs and sits up straighter as she walks over to him, dropping her duffle onto the floor. Her hair is starting to fall out of the elastic holding it together at the nape of her neck, and she's blinking at him slowly, the way she does when she's tired and trying not to show it. He knows she had a mission of her own with Sharon last night. He didn't think he was going to see her today, because she should be _asleep_ after working all night, but she came here instead. It makes him smile like an idiot, but he couldn't care less. He's just happy to see her.

"Come here," he says, reaching for her.

"Easy, spider," she tells him, but he just grins and gives her hips a little squeeze. She hums softly and sets a hand on his face, gently tracing her thumb over the cut on his jaw, and he turns his head to kiss her palm. "The medical report said you also had a bruise," she says, and no, he isn't surprised that she looked up his mission debrief. He taught her how.

"Just a little one." She arches her eyebrow, because of course she can read him. He wasn't really trying to lie, anyway. He just doesn't want to worry her. He can't exactly hide anything from her, though, so he just blows out a breath and grasps onto her hands, guiding them to his chest. She sits down on the couch beside him as she grasps the hem of his shirt, and her eyelashes flutter as she gently lifts his shirt up to reveal the bruise coloring his side. Her expression only falters a little, but it's enough for him to catch, and says, "Hey, hey," as he covers her hand with his, squeezing it ever so slightly. She meets his eyes and he grins. "It's not as bad as it looks, I promise. Besides, since you're here, I'm already feeling better."

" _Stop_ ," she breathes, lips tugging into a grin of her own. "You, Peter Parker, are a _sap_."

"Good thing I know you have a sweet tooth," he teases, and she laughs as he cups his hand over the back of her neck, tugging her lips to his in a kiss, soft and sweet. _God_ , it feels like forever since he's kissed her. (It's only been like, a day, but still.) She makes this little noise, slides her hands up his chest, and he shivers. "Easy, tiger," he murmurs against her lips.

She hums and kisses him a little harder, muscles quivering under her feather-light touch as her fingertips trace his skin. "I thought I was supposed to make you feel better?"

He says her name on a sharp breath as his lips twitch into a smile, and takes her wrists gently in his hands, giving her a playful glare. "Don't tease me," he whines.

She laughs – and it's his _favorite sound_ , he doesn't even care that it's almost always directed at him – and starts to pull away, but he lets go of her wrists and tangles a hand into her hair. He kisses her forehead, and she gently curls herself into his side, practically _purring_ against the skin of his neck as he gently massages his fingertips over her scalp.

"I love this," he says, voice soft. He feels her lips curve into a smile against his skin.

"You know, you don't have to get your ass kicked just so I can cuddle with you," she says as she tips her head back to meet his gaze, and he just laughs and hugs her a little closer. He doesn't even care that she's pressing against his bruise. He can't even feel it, anymore. He just feels her.


	19. Day Nineteen

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,300  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** Oh! And another because I'm greedy like that and because you'll be in retail hell you should find some fluff in it. :) Any pairing and "I need to buy something for my sister for Christmas and you're about her size and can you please try on these like five sweaters" with "good God do I look like I have time for this... wait... you're like ridiculously hot and hell yes I would love to let you follow me around the store while I shop for your sister..."

 **For:** myloveiamthespeedofsound

 **A/N:** _If only_ a guy as sweet and cute as Bucky would come into my store! This made me giddy just writing it, so thank you for that!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day nineteen  
**

Wanda loves the holidays. She always has, ever since she was little. And she doesn't just love all of the pretty colored lights, or the cookies and caroling, or the presents under the tree. She loves the spirit of the holidays, too. She loves that everything seems a little more magical, that the world just seems a little _brighter_ this time of year.

She loves it. That doesn't mean she loves the how the malls get during the holidays, though.

She knows it can't quite be helped. People, no matter what, almost always put off shopping to the last minute, because they don't have the time to get it done earlier or just simply didn't remember or didn't know what to get this particular person, and Wanda gets it. She does. She doesn't mind that the store gets even crazier the later in December it gets, and she doesn't mind that some people simply don't know what they want to buy. She kind of likes it sometimes, actually. She likes helping people put a gift together, likes learning all these little things about this customer's spouse or child or parent, because they think it might help them figure out the perfect gift to give to their loved ones. It's incredibly sweet.

It's just – it's _hard_ sometimes, to be this bundle of energy and cheer when you're on your feet all day, and when some customers are just so _rude_.

There are only three customers in store right now, but she's already checked in with them, and their tables are a _disaster_ , so she takes this time to take a breath and get some folding done. Or she starts to do that, at least, until she hears someone behind her say, "Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but do you mind trying something on for me?"

It wouldn't be the first time she's gotten this question, surprisingly enough, so she's already got her Customer Service Smile on to gently decline it when she turns around, and—

Her heart skips. _Oh._ He's… actually really cute.

"It's just, you look right about her size," he tells her. "And I have no idea what I'm doing. I usually don't buy her clothes, but she really liked this sweater from your window when we were in the mall the other day and—" He shrugs again, giving her a dimpled smile. _God_ , that look must work on all the girls. She's no exception right now. "I must sound dumb."

"No, no," she rushes out, and then feels her cheeks warm at her own little outburst. His smile doesn't falter, though so she continues with, "You sound sweet."

He arches an eyebrow. "It's sweet that I don't know my own sister's size?" he asks, but she can tell that he's teasing her, so she just laughs a little.

"It's sweet that you remembered something that she just pointed out to you." She smiles up at him. It's ridiculous how blue his eyes are. "Not everyone actually pays attention. My own brother included sometimes. And he doesn't always remember what my size is, either," she adds with a shrug of her shoulder. "I think that's just a brother thing."

He laughs, and the sound of it makes her flutter. She shouldn't really be surprised that he'd have a beautiful laugh – just _look_ at him – but it still makes her breath catch a little.

"Well, thank you. That actually does make me feel like less of an ass," he says as he hands her the cashmere sweater that he's holding. His fingertips brush against her hand, warm and a little calloused and sending tingles across her skin, and she glances up in time to see his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. She wonders if he felt that, too.

 _God_ , she's pathetic for even thinking that. Her cheeks flush as she turns on her heels, and she heads for the dressing room in the back of the store.

Natasha is ringing someone up at the register, and she furrows her eyebrows at Wanda a little as she sees the girl heading for the dressing room, but then her gaze shifts, catching sight of the boy (and it's a good thing her manager is at lunch right now, or Phil would be mortified that she hasn't even asked for his _name_ yet) and gets this little smirk.

"Bravo," she calls out to Wanda with a wink, and Wanda rolls her eyes, smiling too widely as she walks by.

She'd feel a little nervous about trying on their own clothes at the store, except there are cameras everywhere, and it's very obvious that she's just helping out a customer and not _stealing_ or anything. So she locks the stall behind her and tugs her shirt over her heart, tosses it onto the little chair in the corner before pulling the sweater on. This was actually a sweater she wanted to buy for herself when they first got it in, because it's cute and the material is soft and so comfortable. She should've mentioned this to him, except that she'd hardly been a little too distracted by his eyes to remember to speak properly, let alone provide something of a decent customer service experience. Not that he seemed to mind.

She glances at her reflection, tugs the sweater into place before stepping out of the dressing stall. The guy is leaning against the doorway to the dressing rooms, hands tucked into his pockets, but he straightens up when he sees her, lips parting a little.

Her heart flutters again, and she brings a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, feeling her stomach _flip_ when his eyes track the movement.

"Um," she says, after neither of them speaks for a moment, "How do I… I mean, do you think your sister will like it?"

He blinks, lips tugging at the corners. His smile makes her feel _giddy_ and it's ridiculous considering she's known him for no more than five minutes. She doesn't care, though. "Uh, yeah," he answers, reaching for her, and then seems to think differently. "Yeah, I think she'd love it. Thanks for trying it on." He glances over her again. "You look beautiful."

"Me or the sweater?" she asks. She must sound like an idiot, but she's nervous. Who wouldn't be when someone is looking at you like this?

His eyes sparkle. "Well, the sweater's _nice_ , but – you're the one that's beautiful, doll."

 _Doll_.

She smiles. That's pretty cute.

"Really, I can't thank you enough for your help. I know it must've been an inappropriate question, but my sister's going to love it and…" He trails off with a bit of a laugh, brings a hand up to comb it through his hair. She gnaws on her lower lip, smiling a little wider. He's _cute_ when he's nervous. "I'm rambling like an idiot. You probably have to get back to work."

She shrugs a shoulder. "My shift is over in an hour, so it's not so bad."

"Well, maybe I can swing by and treat you to a cup of coffee when you're off," he offers, and her heart flutters in her chest. "As a thank you."

She laughs a little, for no particular reason – because she feels _giddy_ – but it just makes him chuckle. "Yeah, I'd – I'd like that."

"Good." He nods. "Thank you again for your help, Wanda," he tells her, and hearing him say her name makes her breath catch a little, even though she knows she's wearing a nametag. It sounds nice coming from him. She doesn't care if that seems silly. "I'm James, by the way."

"Well, James," she repeats, and his lips twitch at the corners, like hearing her say his name sounds nice to him, too. "I'm happy that I could help."

She holds his gaze a beat longer before she remembers to, you know, _move_ , and she spins on her heels, biting on her lower lip as she smiles widely and walks back into the dressing stall. She _loves_ the holidays.


	20. Day Twenty

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "holiday baking with kids"

 **For:** roomtemperaturewater

 **A/N:** So I had an idea of where I was going with this but it got kind of _lost_ in all the fluff, so… sorry?

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twenty  
**

The bed dips gently, and then little hands are gently pressing on her back, a voice whispering, "Mommy?"

Natasha smiles into her pillow. She's not exactly a fan of being woken up, but she definitely doesn't mind it if _this_ is how she gets to start her morning. She was already awake before Tatiana had come into the room, anyway, so it's fine. She pretends to still be asleep and Tatiana prods at her again, a little harder this time as she says her name again, and then lets out this _squeal_ that sounds like bells (fuck, she's got the cutest voice _ever_ ) when Natasha rolls over and pulls Tatiana against her chest, kissing her hair as she squeezes her in a hug.

"Mommy!" Tatiana exclaims, wriggling out of her grasp. Natasha props herself on her elbow and tickles the girl's stomach where her gingerbread pajama shirt is riding up. They're wearing a matching set, because that's what Tatiana wanted and of course Natasha wasn't about to tell her _no_. "You scared me!" she giggles.

"Sorry, babe," Natasha laughs, kissing her cheek. Tatiana smiles, grabs Natasha's face with her little hands and pulls her close so she can kiss her mother's forehead.

(She totally got that from Steve and it makes Natasha's heart flutter every time.)

"Daddy says breakfast is ready," Tatiana tells her.

Natasha hums, hooks an arm around her and holds her at her hip when she gets out of bed. Tatiana is probably a little too old be carried anymore, but whatever. The girl has always been fairly independent, but she likes to cuddle in the morning (gets that from daddy, too; and okay, maybe a little bit from her mama) and Natasha loves it, too. She likes to blame Steve for that, and he'll just laugh and pull her into his arms, nuzzle his face into her neck and tell her how much he loves her. See? He's such a sap and it's rubbed off on all of them.

Not that she's got any complaints. James tells them that he loves them all the time, and Tatiana says it at least once a day. Natasha loves to hear the words.

Steve and James are laughing when she and Tatiana walk into the kitchen, and Natasha smiles at her boys as she sets Tatiana down on a chair. "Good morning," Steve says, his hand sliding over the small of her back and pulling her in for a kiss. She hears James and Tatiana giggle. Maybe it's stupid, but she swears her kids' laughs sound the best together.

"Can we bake today, Mommy?" James asks as he spears a piece of his Santa Claus pancakes with his fork.

Natasha grins, reaches over and messes with his hair where it's sticking up oddly because of the way he slept. His hair is almost as stubborn as him, and he laughs at her like she's so silly whenever she says this. "Of course, baby," she tells him.

Steve reaches for her hand across the table, which he likes to do sometimes (all the time), just because, and grins at her as she sips on her coffee.

And no, Natasha's not surprised at all that their kids want to make gingerbread cookies today. They'd watched this gingerbread house competition last night while they were all in the living room, because Steve had laundry to fold and Natasha had a few more mission reports to read. Otherwise, they would've spent more time _with_ their kids. Not that they were all that bothered by it. She and Steve always try to make sure that they're spending time together as a family and she knows the kids notice this, even if they're not old enough to really understand. So on nights like this, they're pretty content to just sit in the same room while she and Steve get stuff done. They don't watch a lot of TV, anyway – they get bored of it easily and would rather play with each other – so it's a nice change in pace. Besides, James has always loved baking shows, and Tatiana just likes to do what her big brother is doing.

She gets the kids washed up and changed as Steve cleans up from breakfast, and then sits Tatiana on the kitchen counter and braids her hair out of her face while James helps Steve measure out all of the ingredients they'll need for their gingerbread cookies into bowls.

Tatiana helps Steve mix together the sugar and butter (as in, she stands on a chair and giggles all cutely while she watches her daddy do it) while James has Natasha help him mix the flour and spices together in a separate bowl. Then Steve mixes both bowls together to form the dough, wraps it in cling and sticks it in the fridge to chill. Tatiana drags the stepstool in front of the sink so she and James can wash the dishes. It always ends with half of the counter covered in water and soap, but whatever. It's just water, and at least they want to help.

Steve gives James and Tatiana their own chunks of the dough to roll out, and it's cute, this little wrinkle that they both get between their eyebrows while they're concentrating.

 _Fuck_ , that's cute. She glances at Steve with a smile, and he pats her hip, giving her this dimpled grin like he knows what she's thinking.

"Which one do you want, T?" James asks, tugging the plastic bin of cookie cutters closer to them. Natasha just smiles, still rolling out her own chunk of cookie dough as she watches James and Tatiana lay out the cookie cutters one by one along their side of the table.

"Can we make this one?" Tatiana asks, picking out the crown-shaped cookie cutter from the bin and holding it over her head.

James laughs. That's one of her go-to cookie cutters. "Yeah, you can be the Christmas princess."

"Yay!" Tatiana exclaims. Then she reaches over and grabs the medieval shield from the bin. "You have to be the Christmas knight then."

"Okay, T," James says.

Steve comes to sit beside Natasha, this sexy little smirk on his face as he holds up the heart-shaped cookie cutter. "This one's my favorite," he says, and she's totally smiling as she rolls her eyes, but whatever. It's no secret that she's kind of in love with how much of a dork he is.

"This isn't Valentine's Day, Steve."

He slides a hand over her hip and gives it a little squeeze. "Does that mean you don't want my heart?" he teases, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Now, I didn't say all _that_ ," she laughs, grasping his face in her hands and pulling him in for a kiss. He hums against her lips, makes this little noise that drives her crazy when she parts their kiss before they can get carried away, since their kids are, you know, _right there_. Still, there's a smudge of dough on his cheek from her hands, and she leans in and licks it off.

He groans lowly in her ear, breathes her name. She pulls away and winks at him, holding up the heart-shaped cookie cutter for him to see, and he just laughs.

James laughs, too, the way he does when he thinks his parents are being silly. And when Tatiana asks what's so funny, Steve says, "Your mother stole my heart," and Natasha can't really help but lean in and kiss him again, because _fuck_ , this man is cute.


	21. Day Twenty-One

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,700  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "times he doesn't talk with Wanda and one time he does"

 **For:** seductiveturnip

 **A/N:** I hope you don't mind that I dropped this in my Waitress Wanda/Officer Bucky 'verse from a little while ago instead of canon, but it just fit! Also, it got wordy. Oops?

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twenty-one  
**

She's sitting on top of the counter when he walks in, gently kicking her feet back and forth as she pours sugar into the shakers, and Bucky can't really explain why he this makes him smile so much, but it does. She's got big, bright eyes and pink lips and hair that's dark and wavy and tied back into this messy ponytail that looks really sexy right now, and that just seems inappropriate for him to think about a perfect stranger, but still. He can't help it. He knows she's new – he's been coming to this diner for his morning cup of coffee ever since he'd started at this precinct – and maybe that's why she stands out to him. She's gorgeous, too, and he can hear her humming along to the music in the diner. Her voice is beautiful.

"Wanda, darling," Lorraine, one of the regular morning waitresses, says. Wanda glances up at her and Lorraine grins, nodding at Bucky. "You have a customer."

The girl ( _Wanda_ ; it's just as pretty as her) turns to meet his gaze, and he feels like some kind of schoolboy when his heart jumps in his chest. "Sorry! Sorry," she says quickly as she swings her legs over the counter and hops behind it, hair sort of falling in her face. She's really, really gorgeous.

"Be easy on her. She's off in her own world half the time, but she's a sweetheart," Lorraine tells him with a wink as she heads for the kitchen again. Wanda _blushes_.

He grasps onto the belt of his uniform, which he does sometimes, when he doesn't really know what to do with his hands. She glances up at him from under her long eyelashes and they sort of just _stare_ at each other for a moment, and fuck. He feels like an idiot. He's a _police officer_. It shouldn't be this damn hard for him to talk to a pretty girl. "Large coffee and a bagel with cream cheese," he orders, then tries not to wince. Fuck. He didn't mean to sound demanding. But she just gives him this polite smile and calls to the kitchen for his bagel.

She splashes a little cream and sugar into his cup without asking, which he doesn't mind – he actually takes his coffee a little sweet – but he didn't want to make it complicated for her. He doesn't know if it's her first day or anything, or if this is first time serving, but still. He just… He can't quite find his words around her. She seems to read him just fine, though.

"You're new, huh?"

He sounds like an idiot, but whatever. She gets this little grin on her face that he doesn't hate at all.

"Yeah, I just started a few days ago." There's a ring from the kitchen and she spins on her heels, curls bouncing with the motion. He gets distracted by this.

He hands her a $5 when she rings him up and almost, _almost_ stumbles on his words when he tells her to keep the change. _Fuck_ , he's so out of it.

But then she sort of blinks her eyelashes all slowly at him as she smiles, glancing at where his name is stitched onto his uniform. "Thank you, Officer Barnes," she tells him, and he turns around before she can catch him grinning way too widely.

... ...

She's there the next morning, too, sort of dancing around to the music as she's sweeping up behind the counter, and he sort of feels like a creep for just watching her as long as he does. He doesn't even realize that he's smiling until he catches the eye of this elderly man sitting at one end of the counter. The guy's got this look on his face that makes Bucky feel like he knows something that Bucky doesn't, but it mostly makes him feel like even _more_ of a creep for getting caught, so he clears his throat and makes his way over to the counter.

Her hair flies around her face when she does this little spin, and then she catches his gaze and pauses, cheeks coloring as she lets out this little laugh. She doesn't sound embarrassed – she wouldn't be dancing around in public _at work_ if it would embarrass her to be watched – so he just gives her a bit of a grin.

"Hi," she says.

He wants to laugh. "Hi," he echoes.

She sets the broom aside, reaches up and tightens her ponytail as she asks, "Do you want the same as yesterday?"

He grins as he nods. He likes that she remembers this, remembers _him_ , even if it was just yesterday. Still, she must've seen dozens of customers during her shift and she remembers him. It's not a big deal, but it feels a little like it could be. "Thank you, ma'am."

He _accidently_ slips a couple of singles with his $5 when he pays this time and tells her to keep the change, and her eyes are sparkling as she laughs. She sounds amused, maybe even a little charmed, and he can't say that he hates being the one to make her laugh, even if it's _at_ him. "Have a nice day, Officer Barnes."

"You, too, Wanda," he tells her, and her smile widens a little, like she likes that he remembers her, too.

... ...

"You scowl any harder and your face will stick that way."

"I'm not scowling," Bucky grumbles.

Rhodes just laughs, unconvinced, and takes another gulp of coffee. Whatever.

He and Rhodes don't usually meet up before heading to the precinct, because they come from opposite directions, but Rhodes offered to come get Bucky because he said he'd be in the area anyway and Bucky didn't question it all that much. They've hung out outside of work and everything before, so it's not like it's weird. And apparently he's not the only one with some kind of visitor this early in the morning, because Wanda's behind the counter and talking to some guy sitting on a barstool in front of her. Bucky hasn't gotten a good look at him since the guy's been paying attention to Wanda this whole time, and she was too distracted with laughing at something the guy must've said to notice when he and Rhodes walked in.

Not that this bothers him or anything. It _doesn't_.

"They're cute, aren't they?" Lorraine asks as she's getting his and Rhodes's coffees ready. "He's been here since her shift started at five in the morning."

Bucky tries not to frown. "That's nice," Rhodes says. Bucky gives him a look and Rhodes just grins a little wider.

"Yeah, her brother _adores_ her," Lorraine adds. Bucky glances back to find her looking at him, one eyebrow raised, and _fuck_. When did he become so damn transparent?

"Must be nice," Bucky says, and okay, maybe the bitter taste in his mouth goes away. Lorraine _laughs_ , winking as she hands them their coffees and bagels.

He catches Wanda's gaze as he and Rhodes turn to leave, and he smiles, lifts the hand holding his coffee in a sort of wave. The guy turns to follow her gaze, and the resemblance is uncanny between them. It makes Bucky feel like more of an ass, especially since he doesn't have the right to be jealous, anyway, if she really was flirting with some other guy.

"Good morning, Officer Barnes," she says, and he doesn't miss the way her brother's lips twitch when she says Bucky's name. Like she must've mentioned him before.

"Good morning, Wanda," he greets. He should probably introduce Rhodes, but whatever. The guy was being a jerk, anyway.

... ...

He's only ever seen her in the morning that it surprises him a little when he comes in close to midnight and she's there. He thinks about leaving – he doesn't want her to see him tonight, not like this – but she catches his eyes as soon as he's through the door. Her smile fades ever so slightly, concern touching her expression when she sees his face, and he doesn't know why this makes some of the tightness in his chest ease, but it does. He walks over to the counter and slides onto a barstool, but he can't bring himself to say a word.

"Officer Barnes?" she asks, tilting her head a little to try and get him to look at her.

"James," he says.

She blinks, surprised, but then nods. "James," she says, and he closes his eyes, breathes out slowly. He likes how his name sounds coming from her voice. Then his eyes fly open when he feels her hands grasp his atop the counter, soft and gentle and _warm_ as she gives them a little squeeze. He didn't even realize they'd been shaking. "What's wrong?"

"I shot someone," he says, almost too soft for his own ears to catch. She breathes his name and he grips onto her hands a little tighter. She doesn't seem to mind. She strokes her thumb over his knuckles and he brings himself to continue with, "Wasn't the first time, and I didn't kill him, but – I've done it before. Just brings you back, you know?"

He's not even sure if he's making sense. She seems to understand just fine, though.

"Come here," she says softly, reaching for him, and he leans forward and sort of buries his face into his arms. He feels her one of her hands come up to comb gently through his hair. He leans into her touch a little, lets out another breath. "It was the right thing to do," she says. It wasn't want he was expecting at all, and he's not even sure if he deserves to be told that, but it still feels really damn _nice_ to hear. He feels her hair sort of fall all around him as her lops press gently against the top of his head. "Thank you for telling me," she whispers.

He reaches up to grasp the hand she has tangled in his hair. If he squeezes a little too tightly, she doesn't say anything.

She just shushes him softly, gently, brushing her lips against his temple. "It's okay," she tells him, and the funny thing? He actually believes her. "It'll be okay, James. I'm right here."

... ...

(His hands are sort of shaking again when he asks if she wants to go out with him, and she's got that sparkle in her eyes as she reaches for him again, squeezes his hands gently.

"I'd love to, James," she says, and he smiles like an idiot.)


	22. Day Twenty-Two

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,000  
 **Characters:** T'challa/Maria  
 **Prompt:** "I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement."

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** I couldn't tell you why these two even popped into my head, but I just find them kind of fascinating! I don't know. I think I've found yet another ship to be doomed by. So thank you for enabling my crazy!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twenty-two  
**

"You work too hard."

She hums, not glancing up from her tablet as she feels him lean over her, his chest pressing against her back. His lips brush against the dip of her shoulders, along the curve of her neck, brushing a kiss over her pulse, and she makes this little noise and moves as if to shrug him off, but he pulls her closer. "You're being distracting," she tells him, and his breath fans across her skin when he chuckles, fingers toying with the clasp of her bra. She remembers the way he'd kissed his way up her spine and unclasped it with his teeth when she'd first tried to put it back on last night (just in case, because she'd rather not have to defend herself while _naked_ , thanks, anyway). She prides herself on not being an easy person to influence, but it's hard to say no to him to begin with, especially when she'd been humming all over and he was teasing his tongue against her skin, his fingers pressing and stroking.

He's charming. Incredibly so, in fact. He has to be, yes, but she can tell that it's just in his nature.

This _thing_ between them – she doesn't quite know what to call it. She supposes most people would consider them to be dating, but, it's complicated. They live in two different countries, for one. She visits often enough, but that's because he's been their strongest and most influential ally in rebuilding The Avengers.

And, alright, it's not just because of that. He's a friend. They work close together for certain things (a lot of things, really) and she finds herself calling him more and more often when she needs a second opinion on something, or she just needs to blow off a little steam. He just always seems to be in a good mood and she likes hearing it in his voice, you know?

He's… he's _sweet_ , and incredibly well-spoken. He's curious and composed and nothing quite like she's ever seen before. She feels like she has a read on him, but also like she doesn't really know him as much as she should. She knows without a doubt that he's fascinated by her and he's told her just as much. It doesn't feel objective coming from him, either – like she's some challenge he wants to tackle. He calls her wise and strong and beautiful and maybe it kind of completely drives her crazy because she can tell that he really means all of it.

He has a country to run, and she has an organization to build back up, and maybe that means they're not as different as she thinks they are.

That doesn't mean _this_ , them, makes any more sense than it does, but she doesn't really care. Not when her skin feels so warm wherever he touches it, or when her body eases just at the sound of his voice. With him, she feels _calm_ , and maybe she doesn't need to know why. Maybe she just needs to enjoy it.

"My queen," he mumbles into her neck, and her lips twitch in a smile. She's no one's _anything_ , but. Maybe she kind of loves how it sounds coming from him.

"I already let you distract me from these files last night," she points out, not at all fighting against it when he reaches over her and gently pries her tablet from her fingers.

She turns to look over her shoulder, finds him smiling at her as he sets her tablet aside and slides his hand down her front, and she lets him roll her onto her back. His fingers are splayed across the flat of her stomach, tracing circles over her and making her warmth coil. She hums, lets her eyelashes flutter as she tips her head back into the pillow, enjoying his calloused fingertips against her skin. He leans down and half-drapes himself over her, kisses the corner of her mouth. "Your files will be there to be read later," he says against her lips.

"That's what you said last night."

He's got a sexy little smile on his lips, chuckling softly. "And I was right then just as I am now."

She raises her eyebrows, teasing, and he chuckles again and dips back down to kiss her properly this time, lowering his body over her. She's never liked how it felt to be under someone, to be _trapped_ , but it's not like that with him. She feels surrounded by his warmth, feels his chest rumble with every little noise, and she likes it.

She drapes her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and nipping at his lower lip, smirking when she hears him practically purr.

"Should you be lazing around in bed so late in the morning like this?" she asks, bringing a hand between them and letting her fingers ghost down his chest, feeling him shiver ever so slightly as he presses his forehead against her. She loves how it feels when his muscles – so strong and thick and _powerful –_ and quiver under her touch. It makes her feel powerful in this way she never has before. She's always known her own strength, but this is different. "You do have a kingdom to rule, after all," she says, as if he needs any reminding about it. As if he isn't one of the strongest leaders she's ever known. One of the stronger leaders _anyone_ has ever known. He could have anything, _anyone_ , and yet he still chooses her every time.

"You have your own kingdom as well," he says, kissing the bridge of her nose. "Perhaps it would be most efficient to just rule them both together."

She laughs softly, earning a brilliant, bright smile in return. It wouldn't be the first time he's brought it up. Maybe she takes it a little more seriously each time.

"Perhaps it would," she says, pressing her hand flat against his chest, over his heart. It feels a little bit like they're making some kind of promise, and he smiles at her like he knows they're going to keep it. Like he knows they're going to make things work.

It's what they do best.


	23. Day Twenty-Three

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,000  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "Steve giving Natasha a great bday (according to MCU, her bday is supposedly Nov. 22)! Smut and fluff, duh!"

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** This is also a little based off of a headcanon from bloodredmoon87 that I absolutely adore.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twenty-three  
**

"One more, Nat."

She whimpers, tugging at his hair where he's settled between her legs, his breath warm against her skin as he tips his head forward and brushes a kiss to the inside of her thigh. His fingers have slowed their strokes as her body trembles and quivers, just enough to give her a chance to catch her breath, but not quite enough for her to come all the way down from her high. Her skin is tingling, her head spinning, _humming_ , and then he curls his fingers and laps his tongue gently over her bundle of nerves and her back arches, lips parting in moan.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his breath hot against her slick folds, teasing her, making her stomach coil and coil.

She makes this little noise, hooks the bend of her knee over his shoulder as he presses his free hand flat against her other leg, spreading her a little wider. They've always been incredibly in sync and it's really no surprise that _this_ isn't any different. He knows her body, knows all of her little tells. He always knows exactly what she wants.

Her breath hitches into a sharp, soft cry when he pulls his hand out and presses back in, adding another finger, and he groans softly. Like it feels just as good for him as it does for her. "I wish I could show you stunning how you look," he tells her, and she gnaws on her lower lip, blinking her eyes open. It takes a moment for her vision to blur back into focus, but then she finds herself staring right into his eyes, finds them full of such adoration that it makes her stomach flip, which is a little ridiculous considering what they're doing, but whatever. He's always had this knack of making her feel flustered over the strangest ( _sweetest_ ) things and she doesn't hate it as much as she pretends to sometimes. Not at all. She loves it, actually.

"So beautiful," he murmurs again, even though she knows she must look like a mess with her hair in tangles, stray strands sticking to her face, skin flushed and smudged with a little bit of the maple syrup that had been on Steve's lips when he kissed his way down her front. The breakfast he'd made her is probably cold now where it's still on the nightstand.

" _Steve_ ," she breathes, scraping her nails over his scalp, drawing a little grunt before he flattens his tongue against her clit and makes her hips jump.

He rolls his tongue once, twice, three times, closes his lips around her bundle of nerves and sucks lightly. She lets out this little mewl and yanks at his hair, tugging him closer, and his chuckles sending vibrations against her sensitive folds, making her whimper.

She's close, _so close_ , and she knows he can tell. He eases off of her clit, slows his fingers, and she lets out a sharp breath, digging her nails into scalp. She _hates_ it when he does this – when he teases her and drives her right to that edge, only to let her fall back down and do it all over again, until she's gasping and shaking and practically begging. She hates it.

But she loves it, too.

She expects him to pull back, to give her that sexy little smirk as he licks his lips and watches her squirm. She'd be lying if she said that she doesn't completely melt in his hands whenever he gives her that damn look.

But then he laps at her little bundle of nerves as he pushes his fingers back in, pressing and curling and grunting as her walls start to flutter and her hips grind down, wanting _more_. It only takes a few more strokes of his tongue and his hand before she's letting out a cry, muscles tightening as her back arches and she completely falls apart.

He keeps licking gently over her until she pushes weakly at his forehead. He kisses her clit – which shouldn't feel as sweet at it does, but whatever – and then lifts himself up on his elbows. He settles between her legs and kisses the flat of her stomach as he waits for her to catch her breath, hums and licks at the syrup he'd left on her skin. She makes this little noise, combing her fingers into his hair again and massaging gently at his scalp. She knows he doesn't mind that she gets a little rough with him, that he actually kind of loves how it feels when she digs her nails in, and there won't even be a single scratch on him in a few hours no matter how hard she tries. Still, she feels a little bad when she's rough with him.

(But only a little bit. As much as she loves how gently he handles her, she also loves when he's a little rough with her, too.)

"Well," she breathes out, rubbing her thumb over his temple, and he turns his head and kisses the inside of her palm. "That's one way to start the morning."

He gives her that sexy little smirk. "One of my favorite ways, in fact." Then he leans forward and presses a kiss on her chest, just over her heart. "Happy birthday, babe."

She _laughs_. God, she's so in love with this man, it's ridiculous.

Her stomach growls in protest – she was kind of starving to begin with, since they skipped out on dinner for the same reason they got distracted from breakfast – and his eyes are sparkling as he grins and reaches for the nightstand. He holds a strawberry up to her lips for her to bite into and the licks away the juice that slides down from her lips.

"I hope you didn't plan anything today that involves leaving this bed." She dances her fingers down his chest, grins when his eyelashes flutter. "It'll be a waste of money."

"It's never a waste if it's for you," he says, and she's smiling like an idiot before she can quite catch herself, but whatever. It's Steve. She has nothing to be embarrassed about. "Besides," he adds, giving her that smirk of his again. "We don't have anywhere to be until the reservation tonight."

"Best present ever," she says, and he laughs as he leans down to kiss her.


	24. Day Twenty-Four

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Steve/Maria  
 **Prompt:** "leather jacket kink (Maria checks him out in the first Avengers) OR possessiveness"

 **For:** otptilltheend

 **A/N:** You probably meant Maria having the leather kink but I ended up writing it for Steve somehow? Oops.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twenty-four  
**

"One of these days, we ought to make it to a bed."

She hums, lifts her head and peers at him from under her lashes. "At least you have a comfortable couch," she tells him, then bites her lower lip when his chest rumbles in a laugh beneath her. It's ridiculous how sexy this man looks, but especially right now when he's splayed out beneath her, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other tucked under his head. She slides her hands up his chest and grasps his face, tracing over the line of his jaw with one of her thumbs. "At least we _made it_ to the couch this time," she points out, and then he's laughing again, hugging her a little closer. It's technically his fault that they never make it to a bed, because he's too impatient. She'd barely gotten the door open for him before he was all but slamming it shut with her back against it, sinking to his knees and licking a stripe up her center as soon as he tugged her panties and her sweats down her legs.

She'd be lying if she said this wasn't what she had in mind when he told him to come over, but she thought they'd at least get a glass of wine in or something.

Not that she's got any complaints right now. Well, maybe other than the fact that she's _freezing_.

Steve can tell, too, because she sort of shivers and nuzzles herself a little closer. She should just get up and grab the throw that's just a few feet away on the armchair, but her muscles mostly feel like liquid right now after coming twice in a row.

The hand on her waist slides around her front, cupping her breast and rubbing a thumb over her nipple, and she sucks in a sharp gasp. "Cold?" he asks with a bit of a smirk.

" _Ass_ ," she breathes. He just chuckles and pulls his arm out from under his head, reaching for where she tossed his leather jacket onto the floor a little while ago. He drapes it over her shoulders and she sits herself up so she can slips her arms into the sleeves, giving him this little smile that makes him groan and grip her hips, giving them a little squeeze. He's seen her in his leather jackets before, of course, but he gets that sparkle in his eyes _every time_. She rolls her hips, just to tease him, then arches an eyebrow at what she feels. "Already?"

He laughs and grinds her down on his pelvis so that her still sensitive folds rub against him, making her lips part as she practically slams her hands down on his chest for balance.

"Yeah, already," he says, and it's sexy as hell that he's got no shame when it comes to how crazy she drives him. "I like you in leather."

"You like me in _your_ leather," she corrects, swirling her fingertips over the dips of his chest.

He hums. "Very true," he says, and then wraps an arm around her and braces the other against the couch, sitting himself up in one fluid motion. She can feel him hardening a little more between her legs, and then he grinds her hips over him again, his length rubbing over her bundle of nerves, and it's almost embarrassing how wet she's starting to get.

"Steve," she says, voice raspy and almost pathetic, but she doesn't care. He dips his head, closes his lips around one of her nipples, and she tosses her head back in a soft moan. He slips a hand between them, dances his fingers down her front, and she knows what he's about to do, but she still gasps a little when he finds her clit. She whimpers, shakes her head.

She hasn't entirely caught her breath from the first two, and yet her _melts_ under his touch, craving more.

"You want me to stop?" he asks, still gently teasing his thumb over her clit. He peers up at her from under those ridiculously long eyelashes and she lets out a breath, shaking her head again. He arches an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Because if it's too much, I can give you a minute."

She _scoffs_ , and he grins at her. _Jerk_.

He knows she can't back down from a challenge. Not when it's from him, at least.

(She _learned_ it from him, too. Maybe that's why it always works.)

She's still sensitive, though, and he knows it, so he kisses her right between the dip of her breasts as his hands slide to her hips again, murmurs, "I'll be careful," against her skin. She stutters out a breath and drapes her arms over his neck as he lifts her hips, tosses her head back and moans his name as he slides her over him. He groans a little as her walls start to flutter already and rolls his hips up as he guides hers down, sinking in a little deeper. She digs her nails into the muscles of his shoulders as she starts to meet his throats, making him groan again. "There, that's it," he murmurs, and she's not quite sure why that sounds so _sweet_ to her right now, considering their position, but whatever. "That's it, baby. Feels good?"

She rolls her hips, a shiver rippling over her. "Yes," she breathes. "Yes, _yes_." Their rhythm is slow, so much slower than a little while ago, but it's still deep and delicious. She'll come again soon enough, sooner than she'd like, because loves this dizzying sensation more than she ever thought she could.

Then he brings his hand between them again, rubs gently at her clit, and she _yelps_ , tries to curl away. It's too much, but it's also _not enough_.

" _God_ , look at you, Maria," he says as her body arches and her eyes flutter shut. "Never going to be able to wear this jacket without thinking of you like this."

 _Good_ , she thinks, lips tugging into a smirk, but she can't quite get the word out because he presses his thumb harder and rolls up into her once, twice, three more times, and she falls apart at the seams with a cry on her lips as she falls forward onto his chest, her forehead pressing against his. He kisses her, hot and heavy and making it harder to catch her breath but she can't find it in her to care. He licks his tongue into her mouth and circles his thumb over her clit and her legs tighten around his hips as she trembles and trembles. She's still right on that high when he somehow maneuvers over, presses her beneath him and kisses her again, rolls his hips faster, harder, dragging out her high and driving him right towards his.

He comes with a strangled little whine against her lips, and then he pulls away to catch his breath, face falling into the curve of her neck.

He kisses her collarbone softly, sweetly, the way he always does afterwards. Her eyes are still closed as she smiles, brings a hand up to comb her fingers through his hair.

"I'm keeping this jacket," she tells him, relishing in the laugh that rumbles in his chest as it's pressed against hers.

"Good."


	25. Day Twenty-Six

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** Could I request pre relationship winterwitch set in the MCU? "Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?" Thank you ;3

 **For:** seductiveturnip and an anon

 **A/N:** Professions of pining are one of my favorite things ever to write!

(Just in case you were wondering: Day 25 was a request for Barry/Kara from DC CW's The Flash/Supergirl, so I posted it separately from this collection.)

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twenty-six  
**

She doesn't know why she's having a particularly hard time falling asleep tonight. She thought that after being in Hong Kong on a mission for four days straight, she would be out as soon as she was back in her own bed, but, that doesn't seem to be the case right now. Natasha had told her once before that this was common for most of them – that, even though your body is _exhausted_ , you can't quite get your mind to settle down. The fact that she slept through most of the flight home probably doesn't help, though, she didn't exactly have much choice. Steve had her take something to numb the pain from the cut on her shoulder, and she'd been asleep in minutes. She still wonders if she'd _dreamt_ of what she heard.

"…should've been there, Steve," Bucky had said, voice quiet. They probably thought she was already out. "I should've been the one to take that knife."

"Buck," Steve said. "I hate that she got hurt, too, but it wasn't anyone's fault. It happened so fast and you couldn't have gotten to her in time."

"Yeah, but I left her side to begin with. I could've been there the whole time."

"Rhodes needed help at the time, and Wanda can defend herself. She _did_ defend herself." Bucky let out a breath, and there was a moment of pause. Steve had set something down and took a few steps, most likely to get closer to James. "What's going on?" he'd asked, voice softer now. Wanda had barely heard it. "What's really bothering you about this?"

Another pause, and then: "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to her. When I can't protect her, when I just have to watch her get hurt, I—"

He'd stopped himself, letting out another short breath. "You feel helpless?" Steve guessed. His tone had seemed _odd_ to Wanda. Like he was trying to talk about something else.

"Yeah, helpless. Like something's slipping through my fingers and I can't do a damn thing about it."

Wanda remembered how _scared_ he sounded when he'd said this. She remembers how his anxiety tugged at her heart.

"I care about her. I care about everyone, but it's – it's different with her, and I can't really explain it. Everything is always better with her. I feel more like my old self, or as close to that as I can get with how Hydra fucked me up. But it finally feels like maybe I'm actually supposed to in this time. Like I was supposed to meet her all along. You know how that feels?"

"You know I do, Buck." There'd been nothing but affection in his voice. "What I've gone through – what we both went through. It was to bring us here. This was always our future."

James had laughed, short and sharp. "I could only be so lucky to have Wanda as my future. She's too damn good for me."

"So earn it. Earn her heart, Buck. You're sure as hell stubborn enough to."

"My memory may be shit sometimes, Rogers, but I know for damn sure that you've always been the more stubborn one out of the two of us."

The memory of their laughs makes Wanda smile as she blinks her eyes open, staring up at her ceiling. She can vaguely make out the silhouette of the fairy lights that she'd draped across her room. Well, looks like she's not getting any sleep tonight. She pulls the covers back and throws her legs over the edge, slides her feet into her slippers and heads for the kitchen. Her mother always made her a warm cup of tea with a slice of lemon whenever she'd wake up in the middle of the night, and it's something that still works for her today.

The kitchen light is already on when she steps into the hallway, and, somehow, she isn't surprised that James is the one inside.

He's sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island, his back to her as he scrolls through something on his tablet, and in the back of her mind, she's a little proud of herself for being quiet enough not to alert him even just a few feet away. She's improving on being more discreet.

She feels a little underdressed in just a camisole and her pajama shorts right now, but it'd already been a bit of an ordeal getting her out of her suit when she was first injured. Her shoulder doesn't hurt as much anymore, but of course it's uncomfortable and still incredibly sore. She gingerly crosses her arms over her chest and clears her throat, walking closer.

James looks over his shoulder, eyes widening ever so slightly when he sees her. She offers a small smile. "Hi."

"Hi," he echoes, turning to face her a little more. The little wrinkle he gets between his eyebrows is endearing. "Is everything alright? You should be sleeping."

"So should you," she teases. His lips twitch at the corners. "I was feeling a little restless, so I thought I'd make myself a cup of tea."

"Already ahead of you." He nods to the counter, where the electric kettle is still switched on. "My mom would always make me something warm to drink if I had trouble sleeping."

"So did mine," she says, walking to the counter. He slides off of the stool and follows her, opens the cabinet and brings a mug down for her before she even asks.

"Funny things can survive time for so long," he muses, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the counter. She hums, presses the button for the water. He opens another cabinet and rummages around for her box of tea before handing her a packet, eyebrows furrowed as he catches her expression. "What?"

"Nothing." He raises an eyebrow, lips tugging into a grin, and she laughs a little and shakes her head. "Just – thinking, is all."

"About what?"

She gnaws her lower lip, glancing down at her mug. She wants to tell him, but she doesn't want him to think that she'd eavesdropped on purpose. Even if it had been about her, his conversation with Steve had been private, _vulnerable_. But somehow, she knows that he wouldn't think of it like that, so she says, "About what you and Steve had been talking about before I'd fallen asleep in the infirmary." He looks confused for a moment before realization flashes in his eyes. He seems surprised, but not nervous, so she continues with, "Those things you said yesterday, about your future – about _me_ …" She trails off, rubs her lips together. She's not really sure why she seems nervous all of sudden. "Did you mean them?"

He lets out a breath, lips twitching into a wide, _bright_ smile that makes her stomach flutter. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, of course I did."

"Oh." Her cheeks flush. She doesn't really know what to say.

Her expression must be enough for him to read, though, because his smile brightens a little more, if possible. "Good 'oh'?" She gnaws on her lip again. "Good."

She _laughs_ , ducks her head for a moment, before lifting it back up to meet his eyes again. "You've already earned it, you know. A future. My heart." She tilts her head, blinks her eyelashes at him. "You earned it a long time ago. I've just been waiting for you to finally ask me out."

He grins, brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Sorry for the wait."

"You'll make it up to me," she says, and his laugh sends a giddy warmth rushing through her veins. She wants to feel that all the time.


	26. Day Twenty-Seven

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,000  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha, Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** double date

 **For:** steph21108

 **A/N:** This is just fluff and sugary nonsense like cotton candy, but I'm a sucker for it, too.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twenty-seven  
**

"They're really good together."

Natasha smiles, turns her head to follow Steve's gaze through the crowd of the state fair, where Bucky and Wanda are at one of those game booths. It's one where they're popping balloons with a pellet gun, and Natasha feels herself smile a little wider as Bucky helps Wanda adjust it so that she's holding it more comfortably in her hands. The girl has worked with guns before, of course, but they still make her a little nervous. But not right now, though. Right now, her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed and she's totally giggling and not able to hold the rifle steady at all, and Bucky is laughing, too, as he comes to stand behind her. They're taking way too long, but no one's behind them and the guy manning the booth looks totally amused and not bothered that they're sort of just messing around, so whatever. It's cute. _They're_ cute and always have been, even before they actually got together.

But now they're totally in love and _happy_ and it's kind of crazy to see when she thinks about how long it took them to actually _say_ anything about how they felt.

(Not that she and Steve were really any different, but whatever.)

"Yeah, they are," Natasha agrees, tucking herself a little closer. No one else is sitting on this bench, but he'd pulled her onto his lap after they bought hot chocolate and she was too comfortable to move herself off.

"Hey," he says so that she'll look at him. He smiles, squeezes her hip a little. "I love you."

She's smiling as she rolls her eyes. " _Sap_ ," she teases, but then grasps onto the lapels of his coat and presses her lips against his. It's probably a little deeper and dirtier than it should be considering they're in public, but there's no one around them right now and she just really wants to kiss him properly. He doesn't seem to mind. "I love you, too," she murmurs.

"Well, that's a relief," he says, and she laughs because she knows he's joking. He doesn't doubt how she feels about him at all. Not anymore, anyway.

Wanda's giggle draws Natasha's attention, and she looks over her shoulder to see her and Bucky walking over to the bench. Wanda has a stuffed teddy bear tucked in her arms against her chest, and Bucky has this look of total adoration (which is kind of just his look when it comes to Wanda) as she squeezes the thing close and presses her face against it. Bucky pulls her to his side, leans down to press a kiss atop her hair, and she smiles a little wider. Then she catches Natasha's gaze and _beams_ , skipping ahead. Bucky just grins and watches her go.

Natasha stands up, reaches over and tucks some of Wanda's hair behind her ear. "Cute bear," she tells the girl.

Wanda grins and links their arms together. "Thanks for letting us crash your date," she says, glancing at Steve, too. "I've never been to a fair before."

"That was a crime in itself," Steve teases as he stands up from the bench. "My mom took Buck and me to these things all the time."

"And after he learned I hadn't been to one, either, he takes _me_ all the time," Natasha adds, her tone exasperated. He winks because he knows that she's just teasing – that she actually loves how he takes her out all the time, for no particular occasion, because he likes to spoil her a little. "You two are always welcome to come along."

"Well, I don't know about _always_ ," Steve says, and Bucky grins, nudges his fist against his shoulder. It's hardly the first time that the two couples have gone out together, and inviting Bucky and Wanda along today had been Steve's idea in the first place, when their date came up during lunch and Wanda asked what a state fair was like. And obviously Natasha loves to have Steve all to herself, but she doesn't mind this at all, either. She and Wanda see each other all the time, but it's hard to find time to hang out with the girl outside of the facility and not have it be because of a mission or whatever. Not that they can't have fun while they're taking care of business, but still. Taking a step back from the responsibility for a little is nice.

She also just really likes being around the girl. She's always so _happy_ and she's sweet and also totally sassy. She's a lot like Steve and a little like Natasha, too.

Maybe that's why she's so attached to her.

"Should we grab a bite?" Steve asks as they start walking. "I'm starving."

"You're _always_ starving," Natasha says.

"Super metabolism," Wanda chimes in with a bit of a giggle. "James is always hungry, too."

"Don't act like you girls don't eat your weight in fries whenever we get burgers," Bucky teases. Wanda sticks her tongue out at him. "I'm not sure how, since you're both so tiny." They all laugh (well, he's not _wrong_ ) and Wanda hugs onto Natasha's arm a little tighter, leans her head against her shoulder. Natasha smiles a little wider.

They end up at this diner that's a block away from the facility that they go to all the time, whenever they're not sure what they want. They sit at their usual booth towards the back and end up with Steve and Bucky on one side of the table and Wanda and Natasha on the other, because the girl just didn't let go of Natasha's arm when they went to sit down, but no one minds. They boys order burgers for themselves and fries for the whole table, and then their usual waitress – this sweet, elderly woman who always sends them home with a free slice of pie "for being so sweet" – comes by with two milkshakes and four straws that they know she won't charge them for later. Steve will make up for it by tipping too much, like usual.

Steve sticks two straws in theirs and slides it over to her to sip first before she can ask. She grins and takes his hand in hers over the table, curling her fingers around his.

"Hey," she says, even though he's already looking at her. "I love you."

" _Sap,_ " Steve teases, smiling widely. Wanda giggles and Bucky grins, and Steve pushes his thumb against her engagement ring, making her heart flutter in her chest. "I love you, too."


	27. Day Twenty-Eight

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "oh shit I'm in love with my roommate oh shiiiiiiit" au

 **For:** im-too-cold

 **A/N:** So the first thing I thought of was smut, to be honest, but then the fluff took over.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day twenty-eight  
**

He comes home to find her crying on the couch and it tugs at his heart, except she's not really _crying_ – her eyes are just a little red and watery, which makes them look even bigger and brighter, somehow – and she's got this smile on her face as she's talking over the phone.

They've been roommates for half a year by now, and of course his first instinct is to be protective of her. He's protective of _all_ of his friends, obviously, and he's never going to like seeing any of them upset, but it's a little different with Wanda. They live together and sometimes he sees her more than he sees Steve, who he's known since birth, practically. It's nice. He likes not coming home to an empty apartment, likes hearing her chatter on about her day as she unloads groceries, and most of the time she'll grab a few things for him before he's even asked, because she notices when his cereal is about to run out or if he's only got one beer left on his shelf in the fridge. It's kind of awesome, and he sure as hell makes sure she knows that he appreciates it, so he'll make her a cup of coffee in the morning, or grab her cupcakes from the bakery, or sometimes bring her flowers, just because.

She has one of those flowers tucked into her hair right now – a red carnation from the bouquet he bought her the other day. Red's a good color on her.

"I miss you, too, Pietro," she says. That would explain the tears. Her brother was supposed to visit last weekend but had to cancel at the last second. It was the first time they'd ever spent their birthdays apart and of course she'd been a little sad about it. Their friends took her out for dinner and everything the night before, but he'd spent all day with her on the day of her birthday since she'd already asked for the day off of work, even though she said he didn't have to take it off of work too just to be with her. He'd already done it, but still. Silly girl.

He picked up an apple pie from the grocery store on his way home, because he had to stop by and grab milk, anyway, and he knows it's her favorite. Usually she'll make it herself, but she's been busy with prepping all of her winter projects for her Kindergarten class that she hasn't really had a chance to bake like he knows she wants to.

She _squeals_ when he comes back from the kitchen with a slice for her, then laughs and says, "Nothing, nothing," to Pietro over the line. "I've got to go. James brought me pie!"

"Wanda," he says with a laugh after she's hung up. "You didn't have to cut him off. Now your brother's going to hate me."

"No, he won't." She grins. "Besides, you're a handsome stranger that's living with his little sister. He's always going to hate you just a little bit."

She's teasing and he knows, because there's no way she would've let it go on for this long if her brother and her roommate actually had a problem with each other. Besides, he and Pietro text often enough (as in, once or twice a week, and mostly they just talk about Wanda) and they've hung out every time he's been in town. They like each other just fine.

Still, his lips tug into a bit of a smirk. "Handsome, huh?"

"Shut up," she laughs.

He chuckles and shrugs out of his coat, drapes it over the back of the couch as he sits down next to her. She's sort of swaddled herself in the burgundy throw he'd bought her for birthday. It's plush with white, flowery detail in one of the corners and he doesn't think he's seen it leave the couch all week. She loves it, and it feels pretty great seeing her use it.

"Your girls used to wonder how I got lucky enough to end up with you as my roommate," she tells him, picking at an apple chunk with her fork.

"My girls?" he asks.

She laughs a little, shrugs her shoulder. "The girls you used to bring home, when I first moved in," she says, and the coloring she gets in her cheeks makes his stomach do this weird flip. She's beautiful. It's not like he could ever forget, but still. Sometimes he can't help but _notice_. "Speaking of which, you haven't brought anyone home in a while."

He pretends to glare, even as he feels his heart flutter in his chest. "You make it sound like all I did was sleep around."

"Not like that," she says with a bit of a giggle, and, fuck. It's ridiculous how much he likes the sound of it, of _her_. "I just noticed that you stopped going on dates recently."

He clears his throat. "I've been busy," he says.

She tilts her head, gives him this knowing little grin. "You've just been hanging out with me."

"Yeah, that counts as being busy." He leans in and she feeds him a bite of her pie. "Maybe I just like hanging out with my roommate."

"I do, too," she says, and his lips twitch, tugging into a wider grin. "That doesn't mean you're going to pick me over everyone else, every time, right?"

He laughs, except it comes out as this pathetic, choked kind of sound as it catches in his throat. Because it doesn't really hit him until now to realize how much truth there is to her words. Because he knows he would. He'd choose her in a heartbeat, over any one of those girls he used to see. And yeah, maybe he hasn't really gone out in a while, and she wasn't the first person to notice this. Just the other week, Steve asked him if he was feeling alright, because he'd noticed that Bucky had been staying home so much. Bucky remembers brushing it off because the guy worries about weird things sometimes, and honestly? This is the best he's felt in a while. And it isn't until now that he realizes the reason behind that.

He glances at Wanda – at her big, bright eyes, blinking slowly at him, at the part of her lips, the color in her cheeks, her hair sort of falling in her face. _God_ , she's beautiful.

She's beautiful, and she's sitting right there, and he's in love with her.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

"James?" she asks, and there's a tug at his chest. He's always loved how his name sounds in her voice. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," he breathes out. She furrows her eyebrows, unconvinced, and leans in until she's a few inches from his face. "I would, you know," he says softly.

"Would what?"

"Pick you." She raises her eyebrows, lips parting. He smiles a little. "I'd pick you every time."

She blushes, eyelashes fluttering, and it's kind of mesmerizing. And then she _smiles_ , her face brightening as she lets out this warm, breathy sort of giggle, and his heart sort of skips in his chest. "I'd pick you, too," she says, and his lips twitch into a smile. She leans in, close enough for him to count her eyelashes. _Fuck_. He just really wants to kiss her.

He just might.


	28. Day Thirty

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "we're the only ones on campus who didn't go home for Christmas" au

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** Established relationship fluff in any universe is my cup of tea!

 **the most wonderful time of year - day thirty  
**

She knows how ridiculously lucky she is that Steve loves her. She _knows_.

He stayed here with her rather than going home for Christmas just so she wouldn't be alone, even when she wouldn't speak to him for a couple of hours after he told her that he'd called his parents and everything to let them know. She doesn't want them to _hate_ her, and being the reason why your son isn't coming home for the holidays is a pretty damn good excuse to not like someone, okay? She knows it was ridiculous of her to be worried over something like that, though. Sarah and Joseph adore her, and they'd been the ones to help Steve pick out the promise ring that he gave to her on her birthday. They already consider her family and she knows that they talk to Nick all the time. He probably told them himself that he'd be out of town for work for the rest of December, and if Steve didn't make up his mind about staying, they probably would've had her spend Christmas with them, instead.

She wouldn't have minded that, either. She'd spent two weeks with Steve and his parents over the summer and she'd kind of loved it.

But she loves that it's just the two of them right now, with nowhere to be and nothing to distract them. They haven't left the dorms much at all the last few days, and last night, they cuddled up on his bed and streamed Netflix on her laptop until Steve's fingers started trailing up her thigh, and she all but shoved her laptop aside and climbed onto his lap, and—

Well. She loves that they don't have to be quiet, either.

"Steve," she mumbles, curling into his side a little more. _Fuck_ , it's freezing, even under a blanket and trapped against Steve and his ridiculous body heat. And, well, she's not exactly _trapped_ when she's the one who's half on top of him, but still. "Steve, your phone," she says, because she can see the picture of her and Sarah that he has set as his mom's contact photo. Steve grunts a little, squeezes the arm he has around her waist as he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, and she totally shivers at all the cold air he lets in the blanket.

He chuckles ( _ass_ ) and kisses her hair before answering the call. "Mom?" She can hear Sarah's voice greet him over the line, bright and cheerful. "Merry Christmas."

It's ridiculously adorable, that smile Steve gets whenever he talks to his mom. Natasha loves seeing it.

"Mom and Dad say Merry Christmas," Steve tells Natasha after a moment, as he's smoothing his hand up and down her back.

"Merry Christmas," Natasha says, loud enough so that Sarah will catch it. She thinks it should be a little embarrassing that his parents know that they'd be together this early in the morning, but they aren't oblivious. They're kind of old-fashioned, too, so the fact that they're okay with it says a lot about how they feel about the two of them being together.

Natasha dips her head, presses a kiss to his chest, and he smiles at her, twirling her hair around his fingers. She loves how much he likes to play with it.

"Mom," Steve says with a bit of a laugh after a pause, and Natasha can hear Sarah's laughter muffled through the phone. "No, not yet." He grins. "Because we just woke up."

She leans up a little, reaches over him for her phone on the nightstand, and smiles when she sees a Merry Christmas text from Nick. She knows that he must be in his meeting right now. They had scheduled it first thing in the morning so that people could spend most of the day with their families, which she supposes is thoughtful, except they're making people come into work on Christmas to begin with. But, whatever. She imagines Nick texting her under the table in some conference room, not really giving a damn about whoever might be speaking right now, and the thought makes her grin as she types out her reply. He's not a sentimental person, but he'd been pissed about having to miss out on Christmas with her.

"She'll love it," Steve says, and Natasha glances at him, one eyebrow arched. He just grins. "No, _I'm_ going to tell her." There's a pause, and then: "Because she's my girlfriend!"

Natasha _laughs_. Even his "arguments" with his mom are freaking adorable.

"Tell me what?" Natasha asks once they've both said goodbye to his parents and he's promised to call again in a bit.

He chuckles a little, pulls her closer. "They're driving here the day after tomorrow to spend New Year's with us," he tells her with this little smile on her face, and she knows that he's a lot more excited than he sounds right now. Not because he's trying not to be, but because he wants to watch for her reaction.

"They are?" Maybe it's stilly that this is a little exciting to her, but whatever. She loves seeing Sarah and Joseph. He nods. "That's awesome. They'll be so excited to see you."

"And _you_ ," he reminds, trailing his fingertips down her spine. She arches a little, lips twitching into a smirk. _Tease_. "Mom's also going to talk to one of her friends at the airline to see if she can get Nick a ticket here that isn't ridiculously expensive so he can spend it with us, too." Steve grins. "Not that he wouldn't spend every dime it takes just to be with you."

"Steve," she says, and she knows she sounds a little breathless, but _fuck_. She's touched. "Now I feel kind of bad that I kept you away from your family in the first place."

He _laughs_ because he knows she isn't actually upset – they've already had this conversation about it being his choice and everything – and tucks a hand in her hair, pulling her down for a kiss, soft and slow and sweet. "I _was_ with family." He gently massages his fingertips over her scalp, making her let out this little noise. "You're my family now, too."

"Shut up," she breathes. He chuckles and kisses her again. She moves to straddle his hips, braces her hands against his chest as she kisses him a little harder, a little deeper.

His hand comes up to cover hers, thumb pushing at her ring. She nips at his lower lip, drawing a soft groan.

"You're my family, too," she tells him, and his eyes are sparkling as he smiles up at her.


	29. Day Thirty-One

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,500  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "I'm a prince/ss and you're my bodyguard and we're so not supposed to bang but we kind of did anyways" au

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** We're going to have to come back to the royal siblings Natasha and Tony, because now that you've put the thought of Princess Nat in my head, I can't get it out!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-one  
**

"We should probably stop doing this."

"Probably," she breathes out, and then sucks in a gasp, tugging at his hair as he licks a gentle stripe up her oversensitive folds. She hasn't completely come down from her high just yet and every part of her is still tingling, still trembling in the last ripples of pleasure. He licks again and she whimpers, scrapes her nails over his scalp, and her heart does this stupid flutter in her chest when he lets out a soft chuckle. She bets if she looked down, she'd see that ridiculous ( _sexy_ ) smirk on his face. _Oh_ , the scandal that would erupt if someone found them: their princess splayed out on the counter of a hotel bathroom, her dress bunched around her hips and her bodyguard on his knees between her legs. Her father would _kill_ her.

In her defense, she hadn't intended for this to happen. Not this time, anyway.

Natasha has always sort of done her own thing and her parents lets it slide, because they know that she'd never do anything to disrespect their family. And yes, she's adopted, but it doesn't make her any less of a daughter to Howard and Maria, or any less of a sister to Tony. She's been with them since birth, practically. She's always been a Stark.

And being from the royal family means that she's more than used to living in the spotlight. She knows how to play the game, and she's not like Tony, who liked to say things and pull strings just to stir up talk. It was never anything all that serious, and it was more exasperating than upsetting to their parents, so whatever. Natasha got a kick out of all the ridiculous stories people would write about him. And she's not an idiot. She knows that that'd been his way of protecting her. It was easy to slip under the radar with all of the attention on him.

But now he's married and totally in love and about to be a father, and obviously he's calmed down a lot more. She's happy for him. Of course she is.

It's definitely not his fault that this means the public has shifted their focus on her. Those ridiculous stories are a hell of lot less amusing when they're about _you_ , and she's not pissed about it, exactly, but she's definitely irritated by it. Her parents hired her a personal bodyguard because the press harassment has gotten so bad. That'd irritated her at first, too, until she realized that Steve wasn't the worst person to have following her around. He's so old-fashioned that it's kind of endearing, but he's got a lot more sass in him than she'd expected. There are moments where he _has_ to be serious, to be her security, and she gets it. But he treats her like a friend, too, and it's nice. The fact that he's ridiculously _sexy_ helps a lot, too.

Sleeping with a bodyguard is such a Tony thing to do that, when it had first happened, she actually _laughed_. It'd been breathless and raspy because he'd been deep inside her and hitting that sweet spot over and over, and when his eyes snapped onto hers, she expected him to be pissed at her giggling. Instead, he got that smirk of his and angled his hips and made her _scream_ , and _fuck_ , just thinking about that has her whimpering all over again. She hadn't expected that night to happen at all considering how much he held back around her.

She almost thought she wouldn't be able to wear him down. _Almost_. But of course she convinced him in the end.

She's a _princess_ , after all.

"Steve," she breathes. He's lapping at her clit, making her walls flutter, making her legs tremble, and she tugs him up by his hair. She'll come again in seconds if he keeps doing that. Which is kind of the point, because they can only be gone for so much longer without someone noticing. They know what they're doing.

He stands up, meets her eyes as he licks his lips. She makes this little noise from the back of her throat. _Tease_. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, voice low and gravelly the way it gets when he's turned on. "You deserve better than a quick fuck in a bathroom."

Her lips twitch in a grin as she fumbles with the buckle of his belt. "You'll make it up to me," she says, which is true. He always, _always_ does. She pushes his pants and briefs down and kisses him, hard and deep and dirty, and she'll have to reapply her lipstick, but whatever. He hooks an arm around her and hoists her up, wraps her legs around him and lifts her off of the counter. (It's ridiculous how _strong_ he is.) She sucks in a breath as he turns them around and presses her back against the wall, and then she moans his name as he sinks into her.

His lips ghost over her neck as he rolls his hips against hers, angling as deep as he can go with them like this. She lets out a cry and thrusts down on him.

"Quiet, love," he murmurs against the column of her throat. He kisses her there, teases his tongue against her pulse. She knows he wouldn't dare leave a mark, but her heart flutters at the thought of his teeth nipping at her neck the way they did the inside of her thighs. "Someone will hear you."

"Let them," she breathes, and he snaps his hips in response. She doesn't quite mean it and they both know it. Neither of them would risk anything that would put an end to _this_.

He squeezes her hips, grinds her down on him and brushes that spot that has her body trembling. She moans out again and he presses his lips to hers, nips at her lower lip before pressing his tongue against hers, kissing her whimpers away. He hits that spot again and again, braces his free hand against the wall for balance as he thrusts deeper, _harder_ , and the back of her head hits the wall when her body arches, but she barely notices. He does, though. He pulls his lips from hers, asks if she's alright as she catches her breath, and it's stupid that this makes her wetter, if possible. She lets out this little noise and nods. "Wouldn't be a good bodyguard if I'm the reason you bruised your head," he murmurs into her shoulder.

She _laughs_. It's breathy and a little choked, but it makes him smile against the curve of her neck.

Then he brings a hand between them, thumb pressing over her bundle of nerves, and she whimpers his name. He rubs circles and circles, gentle but still so delicious and dizzying, and she arches her back and tries to grind down on him, but her body is shuddering in pleasure as he pushes her right at that edge.

Her walls flutter as she nuzzles her face into his cheek, panting into his ear. He groans. They still have to be quiet, but she knows he still likes to hear her.

When she unravels at the seams, he's deep and delicious and rubbing right against that sweet spot, and she kisses him, hard, because she knows she'll cry out his name loud enough for the ballroom full of socialites down the hallway to hear. A few more thrusts and he's rasping out her name, coming undone inside of her. She moans and clings on tighter.

"Natasha," he breathes a moment later, when they're both coming down from their highs. She smiles a little, grasps his chin in her fingers and kisses him, soft and sweet. He smiles against her lips, licks at the seam of them as he gently pulls out. She whimpers into their kiss as he sets her down, grips onto her hips as she wobbles on her thin heels. _Fuck_. They're kind of a mess and it's going to take a minute to put themselves back together, but whatever. She doesn't care. She just wants to stand here pressed against him for a little longer.

He smooths a hand down her hair – already working on fixing her curls, she can tell – and presses a kiss to the middle of her forehead.

He peppers a few more kisses to her skin as he helps her clean up, then drops another kiss to her forehead before slipping out of the bathroom. She takes her time touching up her makeup, and when she comes back to the party, no one seems particularly fazed. Her parents are still mingling across the ballroom, and Steve has taken a seat by Pepper, the two of them laughing about something as he catches her eye. She grins. Before she can take another step, though, Tony is grasping her by the elbow and pulling her onto the dance floor.

He smiles, pulls her closer as a few camera flashes go off. She tilts her head at him.

"Pretty sure you had a fancy pin in your hair earlier," he says, lips twitching at the corners, and, _shit_. It must've fallen off in the bathroom.

Tony smirks. He's never going to let her live this down.


	30. Day Thirty-Two

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,500  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "I want you so bad" (bonus if there's smut)

 **For:** im-too-cold

 **A/N:** Continuing off of the "oh shit, I'm in love with my roommate" 'verse from a couple of posts ago. And so much dirtier than I'd intended. Oops.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-two  
**

"Wanda?"

His voice is raspy and a little choked, like he can't quite catch his breath, and it makes her whimper, her back arching off of the mattress as she curls her fingers and rubs herself _right there_. He groans softly and says her name again as he steps into her room. She feels like she should be more embarrassed – and she _is_ , because James just walked in on her touching herself and probably heard her practically chanting his name as she worked her fingers inside herself – but mostly she just feels incredibly desperate and dirty. He had plans with Steve and Sam to catch a movie tonight and she didn't think he was going to be home this early. Otherwise she would've thought to be quieter, or at least lock her door so _this_ didn't happen.

But it did, and she blinks her eyes open to find him standing in her doorway with his lips parted and his eyes dark and totally fixed on her. She whimpers again.

"James," she says, and maybe it comes out in this little whine, but she can't quite help herself. She'd be lying if she said she hasn't fantasized about him since the day they became roommates, that she hasn't done this very thing and pictured it being him as she pushed herself over that edge. It's been happening more often ever since they realized a few weeks ago that they both really wanted to be together. They've kissed a lot ( _a lot_ ) since then, but she craves _more_. She just didn't want to sound all pathetic and needy, like she is right now.

He's just – _staring_ at her and not saying anything, and she feels her chest tighten. Now she's starting to feel incredibly embarrassed.

He must be able to sense it, too, because she makes this little noise that sort of sounds like a cry and it seems to snap him out of whatever trance he's in, because he crosses the room and sets a knee on her mattress, cups his hand over hers where it's between her legs, and she whimpers again and rolls her hips up, her palm rubbing her bundle of nerves.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He leans in, brushes a kiss to her forehead and then sort of nuzzles his face into her cheek. "I would've stayed home with you."

"You were always holding back when…" Her voice tapers off into a whimper as he grasps her wrist and pulls her hand away. Her fingers are _wet_. "I didn't think you wanted it."

He chuckles, low and gravelly and _sexy_ , and kisses the underside of her jaw. "Baby, I want you so bad," he murmurs into her skin. " _So bad_. You have no idea." He sinks two fingers into her and her back arches, her lips parting in another moan, then dissolving into a whine when his thumb gently rubs at her clit. "You don't know how many times I've thought of this, of _you_ like this, all beautiful and spread out. How many times I've touched myself while imagining your little pants in my ear, you saying my name the way you did earlier." She whimpers and rolls her hips again and again, meeting his thrusts. He groans and curls his fingers, brushing against her sweet spot. "I was holding back because I didn't want to scare you away."

She grasps at the comforter with one hand, tugs at his hair with the other, until his lips are on hers and she's kissing him, hard and heavy and _hot_. She's already having a hard time just breathing right now, but she couldn't care less about the burn in her lungs. She just needs to kiss him.

"James, James," she pleads against his lips. He groans and presses a little harder, strokes a little faster. Her legs quiver. " _Oh!_ "

He keeps thrusting his fingers as she falls apart, her back arched and her lips parted and her hips still rolling, still craving his touch, even as she unravels at the seams. "That's it, doll," he says, kissing her lips once, twice, as her body quivers beneath him. "You're so beautiful, you know that? So damn beautiful." He kisses her again. "I want you so bad."

It's ridiculous that that's all it really takes to make her stomach start to tighten again. She's barely come down from her high and yet, her body is craving more – craving _him_.

She reaches between them, grasping the front of his jeans, and he lets out this little grunt as she presses right there. He's _hard_. It makes her skin tingle all over again.

She flexes her fingers, kissing him, hard, and he groans, hips rolling against her hand. "Are you sure?" he asks, even though he sounds every bit as desperate as she feels. She nods and nips at his lips and he pulls away, letting a sharp, hot breath against her face. "You don't need a minute?"

She shakes her head. "I just need you," she breathes, and he _groans_ , snaps his hips once more before grasping her wrists and pulling her hands away.

He pushes his jeans down his hips, tugs them off and tosses them onto the floor of her bedroom. She holds his gaze as he kneels on the bed again, between her legs, and she makes this little noise when she feels him pressing right at her entrance. It's unfair that she's in nothing but her bra and he still has more clothes on than her, so she leans up and tugs at the hem of his shirt, and he chuckles softly as she fumbles to push it up his chest, but she doesn't care. She loves hearing his laugh and she likes being the reason behind it. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and then tugs his shirt off, tossing it aside. _God_. This man is ridiculously attractive. She gnaws on her lower lip, splays her fingertips over the dips of his abs.

He gently guides her onto her back again, braces himself on his elbows as he eases himself over her. She tangles her fingers into his hair and kisses him, nips at his lips again.

"Wait, wait," he groans as she rolls her hips, sliding his length through her wetness. His hips snap forward, rubbing her clit. She sucks in a gasp. "Wanda, I don't have—"

"I don't care," she breathes out, scraping her nails over his scalp. "I trust you. Just – _please_ , James."

He presses into her, slow and deep and so _perfect_ , and her neck arches as she tosses her head back, pressing it into her pillows as she rolls her hips up, sinking him in all the way. He feels so hard and full inside of her, rubbing against her already sensitive folds. Then he starts thrusting his hips and she whimpers.

He pushes his face into the curve of her neck, tongue teasing against her skin as he kisses her there, over and over. He moves one hand onto her hip, gives it a gentle squeeze before sliding it up her side. She shivers as his fingertips brush the ticklish spot next to her ribs as he angles his hips and sinks in a little deeper, a little _harder_. Then his hand comes between them and cups one of her breasts, thumb rolling over her nipple. She moans his name and snaps her hips up, urging him to go faster, and he groans and does exactly that. She whines.

"Perfect," he murmurs into the column of her throat before dipping his head lower, closing her lips around her other nipple and sucking gently. She cries out.

"James," she breathes, voice raspy and pathetic. She sort of digs her nails into his head when he hits a particularly good spot but he doesn't seem to mind it at all. He doesn't even seem to notice. He just rolls his hips a little faster until she's all but chanting his name, or as close to it as she can get through all of her moans and whimpers. _Perfect_ , indeed.

"Won't last long with you making all those little noises," he says against her breast. She whines and he groans, sending tingles across her skin. " _Fuck_ , doll. Are you—?"

" _Yes_ , yes," she breathes. It's ridiculous how close she is again, but she hardly cares. It feels incredible. _He_ feels incredible, and she knows that he was probably a lot closer to coming undone than she was considering she'd just had an orgasm. The fact that he's lasted as long as she has right now, just because he wants to make sure she still comes is actually kind of really sweet. He grunts, hips stuttering. "James, touch me," she pleads, and he brings a hand between them, rubbing over her clit. Her body shudders and arches. She whimpers.

Her walls flutter and he drops his forehead to her collarbone, lets out a hot breath against her chest. "Wanda," he groans, and that's all it really takes.

He comes undone inside her just barely after she's reached her peak, and she whines and whimpers as he rolls his hips through their orgasms a few more times before pressing himself close, their bodies shuddering through their highs.

"Fuck," he breathes, _after_ , his head still resting on her chest. She tangles her fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. "Next time, I'm definitely just staying home."

She giggles. This man is ridiculous.


	31. Day Thirty-Three

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,500  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** Hm, maybe winterwitch smut? But like, their first time together and really the first time in a long time for each of them (probably 1940s for Bucky, hello) and also because they've had a crazy long 'courtship,' and it's fluffy and gentle and nervous with lots of fumbling and they're sort of giggling but also embarrassed as hell adghjjkll it makes me squee just thinking about it ;3

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** So this isn't nearly as heavy and explicit as I've written lately, but it just fit the prompt so much better and I loved how fluffy it turned out!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-three  
**

She doesn't really think of it, of _any_ of this, until he's tugging the zipper of her dress down and letting it fall to the ground, and suddenly all she can focus on is the fact that she's standing in front of him in their hotel suite in just a lace bra and panties and nothing else. She's glad that they at least match. It's not as if either of them had planned for the night to end up like this, but still. She wants this. She wants _him_ , and she knows that no matter what, it's going to feel good because it's with him. She's not nervous. Not about that, at least.

It's just – it's been a while since she's been with anyone and that's what makes her a little nervous about everything. She wants it to be good for him.

 _She_ wants to be good for him.

Her heart thrums in her chest and she glances up at him from under her eyelashes, watches the glow of the city lights dance across his face from the balcony. The curtains are still drawn, but they're high up enough that she isn't worried about someone looking in. She kind of likes that they're drawn, actually, because it lights the room up enough that they can keep the lights off. Maybe that's why she sounds a bit frantic when he reaches for the lamp on the nightstand and she grasps his wrist and says, "No!" with enough urgency that his eyes are a little wide and a little alarmed when they snap onto hers. _God_ , she's such an idiot. She feels herself blush, loosening her grip but not entirely letting go. "Sorry," she says.

"Don't be," he tells her, voice soft and soothing as he brushes a kiss to the middle of her forehead. "We can keep the lights off."

She shakes her head. "No," she starts, and then trails off, gnaws on her lower lip. "I don't know."

She moves to cross her arms over her chest, suddenly aware that she's in almost nothing and he's still in the suit that Tony leant (gave) him to wear to the charity gala. But he grasps her wrists gently, keeping her arms from covering herself. His eyes slide slowly down her front and she resists the urge to squirm. "You're gorgeous, Wanda. You always are."

"James," she breathes. His lips twitch into a smile and the warmth in her stomach coils tighter. She needs him. She needs him _right now_. "James," she whines.

"Me too, doll," he says, pressing his forehead to hers. Her heart flutters. She loves when he knows exactly what she's thinking.

She tips up and kisses him once, twice, and he lets go of her wrists and shrugs out of his blazer, letting it drop to the floor with her dress. Her hands are shaking a little as she undoes his tie and then fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, but he just licks at the seam of her lips until she parts them for him, presses his tongue against hers and just kisses her all soft and slow and sweet, not at all rushing her. When she gets the last button undone, he pulls his lips from hers, peels his tie and shirt off and tugs his undershirt up and over his head. It can't quite be helped that she takes a moment to just _look_ at him, because he… he's incredibly attractive and _beautiful_ , and she thinks she won't ever get over it. She doesn't want to.

He walks them back until her legs hit the bed, then guides her down onto the mattress before setting a knee between her legs, lowering his body to hover over hers.

His muscles are totally tense, and his breaths are a little shaky as he glances over her, licking his lips, and she sort of lets this soft, "Oh," when it hits her. He's nervous, too.

He grins a little, letting out a shaky sort of chuckle. "Been a while since I—" He tapers off with a swallow.

This is ridiculous. It's ridiculous that they're both this nervous, because it's _them_. Maybe they haven't always been comfortable with each other, couldn't even speak a word to each other in the beginning, because neither of them realized just how strongly they were drawn together, but still. They've sort of been connected since the beginning, somehow.

They're good together. They always will be.

So maybe this giggle bursts from her lips, because she can't help but find everything a little funny, and there's a fleeting second where James just blinks at her and she thinks that she's upset him. She understands how just _laughing_ after what he admitted would be taken the wrong way. But she reaches up, cups her hand over the back of his neck and tugs him down for a kiss, smiles as she feels the tension of his muscles ease away. She nips at his lower lip, makes this little noise from the back of her throat, and his body relaxes even more.

"Touch me, please," she murmurs against his lips. He groans a little, kisses her harder as he moves his metal hand between her legs, and, _oh_.

" _Fuck_ , doll," he mutters, drawing another giggle from her, which dissolves into a moan as he rubs right over her little bundle through the thin, damp lace. Her nerves had distracted her for a second, but she's still so wet from all the heavy looks and teasing touches under the table throughout dinner.

She lifts her hips for him so he can tug her panties off, reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra, and she _blushes_ when she tosses it aside, completely baring herself to him.

She doesn't have a chance to be embarrassed about it, though, because then his fingers are cold and hard as they gently rub at her folds and she moans, arching her back off of the bed. He circles her clit over and over again, pressing just hard enough and just fast enough to make her start to tremble already. "Feels good?" he asks in this little voice that makes her whimper, because she knows he isn't trying to be smug. He's genuinely worried that it won't feel quite right, which is ridiculous. She's never, ever been afraid of his prosthetic.

So she cries out, " _Yes_ ," in this voice that sounds totally dirty to her own ears, but she doesn't care. It feels good – feels _incredible_ – and she wants him to hear it.

He teases his fingers lower, circles her entrance, and her heart skips a beat. "Doll—"

"Yes, yes," she breathes. She doesn't care if she sounds desperate. She wants him, wants _this_ , and when he finally presses a finger inside of her, the sound she lets out is throaty and pathetic and echoes off of the walls. She digs her nails into the back of his neck, cries out when he slips a second finger in and passes his thumb over her clit.

She needs him. She needs him _right now_.

She slips a hand between them before he can quite catch it, dips under the waistband of his boxers and wraps her fingers around him, and he hisses softly, hips snapping against her hand. She doesn't – she's never done _this_ before and doesn't really know what to do, so she sort of guides her hand down the length of him, all the way to the tip, and then her heart flutters at the way he groans out her name and jerks against her hand once, twice more, like he can't help himself. He curls his fingers, presses down on her clit, and she moans out.

" _Please_ ," she whines, squeezing ever so slightly. He leans down and kisses her, hard and hot and heavy.

Then he pulls his hand from her completely and she whimpers, hips rolling up to chase his touch. He gently pries her hand off of him and moves away just long enough to get his boxers down his legs, tossing them to the floor with the rest of their clothes before he braces his elbows against the mattress, lowering himself over her.

She wraps her arms around his waist, splays her fingers across the muscles of his back and pulls him a little closer. He's pressing right against her wetness and it makes her shiver.

He presses his forehead against hers. "Still good?" he asks, barely above a whisper.

"Still good," she echoes. "Really good," she adds, and he lets out this sort of laugh that makes her heart flutter in her chest.

Then he pushes into her slowly, deep and delicious and dizzying, and she digs her nails into his back and parts her lips in a moan as he sinks into her.

 _Definitely good_ , she thinks, and then he pulls out just as slowly and pushes in again, and she can't quite think of anything at all.


	32. Day Thirty-Four

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,500  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** Romanogers + restraints also please! ;D

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** Set in the Doctor Steve and Officer Bucky 'verse that I have yet to name, because I'm pretty sure it was you who said something about Steve and Natasha having a little fun with Bucky's cuffs.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-four  
**

She whimpers, arches her back, hips snapping up as she tugs and tugs. The headboard rattles with the force of it and Steve chuckles, low and a little gravelly, the way it gets when he's incredibly turned out. She knows that if it weren't for the tie wrapped around her eyes, she'd find that sexy little smirk staring down at her.

"Might break my bed if you keep that up," he teases, and she sucks in a soft breath as his lips brush her pulse, just under the metal cuff clasped around her wrist.

"Then _do something_." She'd meant to sound a little more demanding, but instead, her voice is pathetic and close to a whine. She doesn't care, though. She just needs him to stop being such an asshole. The bed dips, and then he's pressing a kiss to her other wrist. She tugs at the handcuffs keeping her tied to the headboard. He chuckles. " _Ass_ ," she breathes.

He chuckles again. She doesn't have a chance to be pissed about that, though, because then he slides the vibrator up and presses it right over her clit and her body jerks.

Oh, _oh_. He keeps it there, circles gently, once, twice, and her hips roll and roll. Her neck arches as she tosses it back, presses it into the mattress.

"Steve," she moans as he rubs it back and forth, back and forth. Her walls flutter, her heart thrumming—and then he slides it back down, teasing at her entrance, and she presses her cheek into the pillow and whimpers.

This wasn't what Natasha had in mind at all when she'd come across Bucky's handcuffs the other day. And by that, she means that she'd been looking through his closet to find the strapless bra that she leant Wanda the other night, to wear with this strapless dress she'd helped her pick out for the police academy dinner that Bucky had taken her to. She was _so close_ to texting a picture of it to the group text that she, Steve, Bucky, and Wanda share (because Natasha knows it wasn't an accident at all that they'd ended up in Wanda's drawer). But she wasn't about to pass up the chance to tease Steve with them first. The deep blush that colored his cheeks when she'd dangled the cuffs in front of his face alone had been worth it. She'd peppered his face with kisses when he seemed embarrassed enough, then dropped them into his desk drawer so she could give Bucky and Wanda shit about it later.

When he asked if she wanted to try something, she hadn't thought it would be _this_. She hadn't been able to think much of anything with the way he was pressing all but tearing her out of her clothes. And as much as she loved how flustered he'd been about the handcuffs, she loves how incredibly _sexy_ he'd been when he dangled them for her to see.

She was wet as he cuffed her to the headboard, even more so when he draped the tie over her eyes. When she heard the hum of the vibrator ( _her_ vibrator) she was soaked through.

He slides it down the inside of her thigh, slicking her skin as he lets her catch her breath. Her blood has only just begun to slow into a slightly steadier rate when he trails it back up and presses it against her folds. Her hips snap up as she tugs at the cuffs again.

Then he switches it off and pulls it away and she inhales shakily. The bed dips, and she feels him lean over her, press his face into her cheek as his hand slides up her side and cups her breast. She makes this little noise as his thumb circles her nipple. "Hard to believe you're a doctor," she breathes out. "You sure seem to like it when I suffer."

He chuckles. "Bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" She bites on her lower lip and he brushes a kiss to her temple. "Still okay?"

"Still okay," she echoes, giving a little tug at her cuffs. Then she feels him pull his hand from her breast to grasp her wrist, rubbing gently circles over her pulse. "Steve, I promise I'm okay. More than okay." He hums, brushing another kiss to her temple. She feels her stomach coil even tighter. It's ridiculous that _this_ is what's turning her on right now, considering.

"I want to try something else."

She grins. "You mean the blindfold and the cuffs aren't kinky enough?" He just chuckles, the bed dipping again as he moves above her, and then his hands are warm and gentle on her as they guide her to sit up. "What are you—" she starts, but he maneuvers her to turn over, the chain of the cuffs twisting together as he turns her onto her knees. Then he slides his hands over her sides, squeezing gently as he lifts her up and slides himself under her, moving her to straddle his hips. Her sensitive folds brush against the denim of his jeans and, _oh_.

"Make yourself come," he says into her ear, and she whimpers, grasps onto the wooden bars of his headboard. His fingers comb through her hair. "I want to see."

"Didn't know you were this kinky," she says through a breathy moan, grinding her hips down on his leg.

"I'm a doctor. We're as kinky as they get." She can imagine that lopsided grin on his face and it makes her smile. She wants to see him, but _fuck_. Everything is crazy heightened with the blindfold on and she wants that, too. Her clit drags against his leg and she shudders and falls forward, presses her face into his neck. "Baby, I need you to—"

She grinds her hips down once, twice, tosses her head back and moans. She's already so sensitive from the vibrator. It'll take nothing at all to reach that dizzying edge.

He groans, sounding every bit as wrecked as she feels, and it's – it's actually really _sweet_ that he's so turned on from her pleasure. That he loves it when something feels good to her.

She falls forward, presses her face into his neck as she rolls and rolls her hips. She's more than wet enough for the rough denim to feel _perfect_ as it drags through her folds. She feels him tuck his fingers into her hair, tugging her head back gently so he can press their lips together in a kiss, hot and heavy. She grips onto the headboard a little tighter, angles her hips so that her clit presses against leg with every little move. Fuck, _fuck_. Her heart thrums in her chest, her lungs starting to burn, but she doesn't want Steve to stop kissing her, to stop touching her. She makes this little noise from the back of her throat, body shuddering, and he yanks his mouth from hers and dips forward, closes his lips around one of her nipples.

"Steve," she breathes. His hands slide over her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze as he grinds her down on his leg a little harder, a little rougher. She whines. " _Steve_."

"You close?" She whimpers and nods, walls fluttering. He shifts his leg, presses up against her as he grinds her down again, and moans. "Nat—"

She sucks in a gasp, body shuddering, and then he slips his hand between them and massages the pad of his thumb over her clit. She trembles and hunches forward, presses her forehead against his and lets out a sharp, hot breath. He circles once, twice, three more times, and then she squeezes her legs around his thigh and cries out as she falls over that blissful peak. He gently grinds her down on his leg through her high, dragging it out, until she whimpers and shakes her head, collapsing against him as she rides out the tremors.

"Fuck," she breathes.

"Exactly what I was thinking," he says into her ear, and she feels her lips twitch into a grin. He undoes the knot at the back of her head, pulls the tie away from her eyes, and she blinks a few times as her vision blurs back into focus. Steve has that stupid smile of his, eyes dark and hazy with desire.

She grinds down on him again and he groans and lets his head fall back against the headboard. "Wait, wait," he says, reaching for the key on the nightstand. He unlocks the cuffs and lets them fall to the mattress as he grasps onto her wrist, bringing them to his lips to brush a kiss to the red lines on her skin. Her heart flutters. He does the same with the other wrist and then pulls her forward, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to her lips. She presses her body against his, kisses him a little harder, a little deeper—

And then clasps one of the cuffs shut around his wrist. He chuckles as he pulls away, eyes sparkling as he meets her gaze. _Fuck_ , this man is ridiculous sexy.

"You need a little attention yourself," she teases, nudging her leg where he's hard for her. He groans, eyelids fluttering shut as she brings his hands above his head and loops the chain of the cuffs around the post, clasping it closed over his other wrist. She smirks at him, one eyebrow raised as she adds, "Doctor's orders."

He moans and she giggles, presses a kiss to his lips. They are _far_ from done tonight.


	33. Day Thirty-Five

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "If you keep looking at me like that we won't make it to a bed" with Steve and Natasha but like preferably with them at a holiday party or some sort of public event? Thank you so much! (P.S - Smut totally ok)

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** Part of the Princess Natasha and Bodyguard Steve 'verse from Day 31 (aka: royal 'verse) because I'm obsessed.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-five  
**

"Tell your boyfriend to stop looking this way," Tony whispers as he presses a kiss to her temple and camera flashes go off.

Natasha laughs instead of rolling her eyes like she wants to, even as her heart does this little flutter in her chest, because yeah, she noticed all of the looks, too. It's kind of crazy to think that, just a few months ago, Steve had been hesitant to even glance too long in her direction because he felt it was inappropriate. It was kind of charming but mostly frustrating that he was adamant about keeping their relationship platonic, because she was the princess and he was her bodyguard and there were probably so many things wrong with that. It's just like her to want to be with _him_ of all people, too. She's never had much of an interest in dating to begin with, but Steve didn't treat her like _the princess_. Not all the time, anyway.

"He's my bodyguard, Tony. He's supposed to be looking this way."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't have to look at you like _that_." Tony tightens his grip on her waist a little more. "He's starting to make _me_ feel indecent."

"Are you saying this to be an ass, or are you actually trying to be an overprotective brother?"

"Can't I be a little bit of both?" he asks, and she tips her head back as she laughs. Tony grins a little wider, even though she can tell he's trying not to, and more camera flashes go off. He's ridiculous. Before she can tell him this, though, their parents gesture them to join them at center stage. "Fantastic speech, Father," Tony says as he throws an arm around him.

"You mean you were paying attention this time?" their father jokes. Tony scoffs, and then their father turns to look at Natasha, raising one eyebrow. "Quite a dress, princess."

"Are we trying to catch someone's eye?" their mother teases as she fusses with one of Natasha's curls. "You do seem a little more chipper than usual, darling."

Natasha can't help but smile as she rolls her eyes, heart fluttering in her chest again. "I just liked the dress, Mother."

Her mother hums, unconvinced, but presses a kiss to her daughter's cheek before ushering her forward, and more cameras flashes go off. They stay where they're standing to pose for a few more pictures, and Natasha resists the urge to glance over her shoulder, where Steve is waiting off to the side with the rest of the guards.

She tosses her hair over her shoulders, letting her curls fall down her bared back. She doesn't have to see for herself to know that Steve is watching. He always is.

She's counting on it.

... ...

"If you keep looking at me like that, we won't make it to a bed."

Steve brings his glass to his lips, says, "Maybe I don't want to make it to a bed," low enough for only her to catch, and she gnaws on the inside of her lip and glances away, wills herself not to blush. It's a good thing that Tony and her parents have left the table to mingle, because Tony would tease the hell out of them in front of their parents without being subtle at all and she would've been a little too turned on to try and play it off. Steve sets his glass down, furrows his eyebrows at her and looks so genuinely concerned that it almost fools her for a second, if not for the slight twitch to the corner of his lips as he presses the back of his hand to her forehead. "Kind of inappropriate to wear a backless dress to a holiday charity, huh?"

She giggles softly. He's not an idiot and she wasn't exactly being subtle; of course she wore this dress because she knew he'd be following behind her all night.

"Natasha, are you alright?" her mother asks as she makes her way back to their table. Steve pulls his hand away, stands up so that her mother can take his seat. Natasha jumps a little when she presses her fingers to her neck. She hadn't realized how flushed she'd gotten. "Oh, darling."

"It's just a little warm in here, I guess."

"You should get some rest," her mother insists, grasping Natasha by her elbow and guiding her to stand up. "Steve, will you help her upstairs? Make sure she gets to sleep?"

"Of course, your majesty," Steve replies, sliding his hand over Natasha's back, smoothing his thumb in soft, barely there circles over into her skin. _Tease_.

"Feel better, darling." Her mother presses a kiss to Natasha's cheeks and then gives her shoulders a little squeeze, and, okay. As incredibly hot as it is to sneak off with Steve all the time, she always feels a little terrible lying to her parents. She doesn't think they'll be terribly upset when they learn the truth, but still. Natasha doesn't like hiding things from them.

He keeps his hand on her back as he guides her through the paparazzi and down the hallway, lets it linger as the elevator doors slide shut. She hums, leans into his touch.

"I really do like the dress," he says, still smoothing his thumb over her skin. She glances over her shoulder at him. "I like you in it the most, though."

She laughs. _Fuck_ , it's unfair that this man is incredibly sexy and absolutely adorable at the same time. It's ridiculous. "Are you going to like me just as much out of it, too?" she asks.

He smirks a little as the elevator door slides open. "Maybe."

She arches an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Maybe a lot."

"Never been one for eloquence, have you?" she teases, but he doesn't respond, just slides the keycard to her suite and guides her inside once he gets the door open. It's barely clicked shut behind them when she feels him push her hair over her shoulder and press a kiss to the back of her neck. "We aren't making it to that bed, are we?" she breathes.

He hums, splays his fingers across her back and gently presses her front against the wall by the door, teasing his lips against her skin as he kisses lower, _lower_.

"Not a chance," he murmurs against her skin, and she whimpers, gently scratches her fingers against the wall.

(She's still pressed against that wall with her dress on the floor around her ankles when he presses himself against her back, rubs at her wet heat and tells her that he definitely likes her the most when she's _out_ of the dress. She does, too.)


	34. Day Thirty-Six

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "The skirt is supposed to be this short."

 **For:** sleepygrimm

 **A/N:** I tried not to make it smutty. Not very hard, but I did try!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-six  
**

"James, stop pouting."

"I'm not," he says, but then cracks a bit of a grin when she raises her eyebrows at him. He hums and grasps her by her hips, tugging her forward. She still has to put on her earrings but she figures that can wait, so she lets him pull her forward, lower her into his lap so that she's straddling his hips. She drapes her arms around his neck and kisses his lips, soft and sweet. He makes this noise from the back of his throat that always drives her crazy, and she smiles against his lips, kisses him a little harder. "Okay, maybe I was pouting," he admits.

"You don't need to," she insists, hugging herself a little closer. "You have nothing to worry about."

He gives her a look. "I know that," he says with a bit of a laugh, like she's silly for thinking otherwise. She smiles. She knows that James trusts her, but she still gets this little flutter in her stomach whenever he shows it. "I know you've got this. You're going to be great." He squeezes her hips. "Doesn't mean I have to like how short that skirt is."

She giggles. "The skirt is supposed to be this short." She presses her forehead against his, lips tugging into a grin. "Besides, I thought you liked my legs."

He lets out a bit of a groan, making her giggle again and tighten her legs around him ever so slightly. "Doll, I _love_ your legs." He slides his down her legs, digs his fingertips into the backs of her thighs as he gives them a squeeze. She makes this little noise and presses her face into his cheek, his stubble brushing against the side of her jaw. She feels his lips tug into a smile. "Not exactly thrilled that someone else is going to have their hands all over them, though," he admits, and she hums, moves to brush a kiss to his temple. She can tell that he's trying not to sound as upset by this as he really is, because he wants her to know that he trusts her. This is her choice to play this role on this mission and he respects that.

This is something they all go through, and she thinks it's never actually going to get easier for anyone to watch the person they love let strangers flirt and touch them, even if doesn't mean anything. She doesn't like the idea of anyone other than James touching her, either.

She gets it. She _does_ , and she's not upset at all that he's uncomfortable with it. It's actually incredibly sweet.

So she pulls back a little, grasps his face in her hands. He blinks his eyelashes as he smiles up at her, the sparkle of adoration in his eyes making her heart skip and her stomach coil. She presses her lips to his in a kiss, meaning for it to be brief, but he tucks his fingers into her hair and cradles the back of her head, kissing her a little harder, a little deeper.

She makes this little noise. She'll have to retouch her makeup before they land, but she couldn't care less, so she parts her lips for him when he licks at the seam, brings a hand up to comb it through his hair as he presses his tongue to hers.

She _whimpers_ in surprise when he slides his other hand between them, pushes it under her skirt and presses his metal fingers against the front of her lace panties.

"James," she breathes. They have a _mission_ to take care of. They can't— _she_ can't—

"Want me to stop?" he asks against her lips as he massages her through the thin material. When she doesn't respond right away, he kisses her again, a little harder, a little _dirtier_ , and she whimpers again and rolls her hips. She mewls when his thumb brushes over her little bundle of nerves, and he does it again, and again, making her shiver. "Wanda?"

"James," she whines. She'd think it was ridiculous that it's taking almost nothing at all for him to work her up, but it isn't, not at all. Not with him. She always melts under his touch.

"Baby, we'll be landing soon," he reminds, which is unfair, really, since he was the one to start touching her in the first place.

"Don't stop," she demands – _pleads_ – and he groans softly and nods, kisses her again as he presses just a little harder, a little faster, her slick heat starting to damp the front of her lace panties. He pulls his other hand from her hair and brings it between them, pushes her skirt all the way up her thighs so that it bunches around her hips.

He hooks his finger under her panties and tugs them down slowly, teasingly, making her heart flutter. She blinks her eyes open, vision blurring into focus as she pulls back and meets his gaze, and then he's dragging his knuckle through her wet folds and she lets out this pathetic little sound from the back of her throat. He groans and rubs her _just right_ , and she tips her head back, breathes his name. He slides his fingers up and circles her clit lightly, too lightly, her stomach coiling tighter. She rolls her hips and he circles her clit just a little harder.

"You look gorgeous, doll," he says, and then sinks a finger into her without warning and she lets out a soft cry, presses her face into his neck. "Fucking beautiful."

He drags his finger out and presses back in and her legs tremble. They hardly have the luxury of taking their time right now, but he seems like he's doing just that and it's making her head spin. She sure as hell won't be able to focus on this mission if he doesn't finish her before they leave. Not that he would, but still.

She knows how much he loves to tease her.

He brings his fingers up to rub at her clit again, then teasing down to circle her entrance, and she clings onto him a little tighter. It feels _wonderful_ , but if he doesn't hurry—

But then he sinks two fingers into her and she sucks in a breath and forgets to think at all as she rolls down on his hand. He strokes a little faster, curls his fingers and brushes that sweet spot that makes her tremble. He knows her and her body and usually he uses that to tease her, to drag this out for as long as possible, until she's quivering and all but begging him to give her relief, and she loves that, too. But she also loves _this_ – the dizzying press and pull of his fingers, his breath hot against her ear as he murmurs, "That's it, doll. Just look how beautiful you are. _Fuck_ , I love you _so damn much_ ," over and over again – knowing exactly what he needs to do to push her over that dizzying peak. She whimpers, body trembling.

"I love you, too," she breathes into his neck, peppering kisses along the column of his throat. "Only you, James."

He groans, brushing his thumb over her clit and drawing a cry from her lips. He knows what she means. He's the only person who can touch her and make her feel like _this_ , that can make her heart flutter by just saying her name. She loves him.

He pulls his fingers from her, making her _whimper_ , but then he rubs right over her clit and she sucks in a breath, her thighs shaking. He strokes gently, circles her a few times before dragging his fingertips up and down, and there's no pattern at all, and she knows she's close. He knows it, too. He circles and circles, her walls fluttering as she lets out a whine.

Then he rubs her just so and she tosses her head back, her spine curving as her thighs tremble, and he keeps working his fingers through her orgasm, dragging it out.

She falls forward, presses her face into the curve of his neck again as she tries to catch her breath. He brushes her clit again, making her jump and whimper and shake her head. It'll take him nothing at all to make her come again, but she knows he won't risk it. Not when they still have a mission to take care of in a matter of minutes. _God_ , they should be landing soon and she knows she's not going to be able to walk all that properly in time, let alone catch her breath. She doesn't care, though. Not when she's pressed against James like this.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder, once, twice, until she's lifting her head to meet his eyes. He smiles.

"No more pouting?" she asks.

He _laughs_ , bright and beautiful. It makes her heart flutter. "No more pouting."


	35. Day Thirty-Seven

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,500  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "Red Dress" by MAGIC!

 **For:** marvelousdorito

 **A/N:** It turned a little more emotional than I intended. Oops?

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-seven  
**

He's not surprised that Peter is here.

"Hey, Cap!" he greets from the kitchen, kicking the door to the pantry shut as he grips onto the milk with one hand, two boxes of cereal and bowl tucked under his arm. Steve laughs and shakes his head. The kid must've eaten through the last of Natasha's chips if he's snacking on cereal already. "Nat's still in her room."

Steve laughs again and glances at his watch. Natasha text him an hour ago that she was going to start getting ready. They have fifteen minutes to their reservations, but still.

Natasha could get ready in twenty minutes if she wanted to, but he hardly minds. He knows that he'd wait as long as she needed him to, even though she's the most beautiful person he's ever seen and doesn't need all this time just to get dressed. He's seen her all dolled up in her favorite stilettos and a gorgeous dress that probably costs more than it looks, and he's seen her at home on the couch in her favorite pair of sweats and one of her old shirts, and he's seen her in _nothing_. He knows she's beautiful and he's sure to tell her all the time.

He likes when other people acknowledge it, too.

"She looks great, by the way," Peter adds as they head into the living room. He's spread his stuff across the coffee table, so he has to push some of his papers aside to make a space for his bowl. It's kind of hilarious that Peter is so comfortable in Natasha's apartment, but mostly it's just cute that he's over so often. It's cuter that Natasha doesn't mind at all.

"She always does," Steve says. Peter hums, spoons some cereal into his mouth as he nudges his skateboard under the coffee table with his foot. "Did you skate all the way here?"

He laughs. "No, Nat picked me up. She wanted my help getting ready." Steve raises his eyebrows. Peter grins. "Okay, _I_ wanted to help her, but she agreed!"

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. "Do you think it'll take much longer before she's done?"

Peter's lips twitch into a bit of a smirk at the corners, and _shit_. It's almost kind of scary how much that reminds him of Natasha. The kid definitely spends a lot of time with her.

"Like you wouldn't wait for hours if she made you." Steve _laughs_. He isn't wrong, so. "Besides, you know Nat. She likes driving you crazy."

"You picked up on that, huh?" Steve asks, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning an arm against the wall. Peter nods, flops back against the couch and almost spills some of his milk with the motion, but Steve lets it slide. Natasha doesn't mind a little mess, and Peter's good about cleaning up after himself, anyway. "Does that make you her accomplice now?"

"It's always better to be with her rather than against her, right?"

Steve hums, glances over his shoulder at where her bedroom door is shut at the end of the hallway. "Yeah, it is," Steve answers, turning to look at Peter again, whose expression tugs into a wince as he realizes what he's said. Steve knows the kid hadn't been aware of anything other than what Tony told him that day at the airport; that his friends would be making a mistake if they couldn't be stopped. But Peter still regrets being involved in their fight to begin with. He's just got the kind of a heart and Steve admires that. He really does. It's why he can't bring himself to be as upset as he should be about encouraging Peter to risk his life the way they all do. Because it's his choice, and Steve knows if anyone can handle it, it's Peter.

Steve's glad that they're on the same side now. Steve's glad that there aren't any sides to choose between at all.

"She forgives you, you know," Peter says in this soft voice, sitting up a little straighter. "She said there was no way she wouldn't."

"It's because she's too good for me. She always has been."

"Funny." Peter smiles a little. "She always says the same thing about you."

Steve feels something tug at his chest, fingers curling and uncurling in his pockets. "Did she tell you how she warned me against it? Against going after Buck in the first place?" He shakes his head, leans off of the wall. "Everything that happened – all that fighting, and the stuff we all had to deal with after the fact – it's all because I didn't listen to her."

"You got him back, though. You got everyone back. You got _her_ back." Peter shrugs his shoulders. "And, not to sound like a jerk, but you got me now, too."

"Peter," Steve says, lips tugging at the corners. The kid's got a point. "Do you really think she's forgiven me?"

The boy smiles, perking up, but before he has a chance to respond, Natasha's breath is warm against Steve's ear as she says, "Why don't you ask her yourself?" in this teasing voice that always, _always_ drives him crazy. He grins. Peter's face brightens at the sight of her.

"You look awesome!" Peter exclaims.

Steve sort of laughs before he can help it. That word doesn't do her justice at all. She looks… she looks _breathtaking_ , with her hair braided elegantly atop her head, her cheeks pink and her lips red, almost as red as her dress. It dips just low enough at the neckline, hugs her curves before falling away from her waist to her ankles, teasing a glimpse of the black stilettos he knows she loves. Her shoulders are bared, drawing his eyes right to the necklace (the necklace he gave her) draped over her collarbones, a small, gold star resting against her skin.

"You…" He trails off, reaches for her hands. She lets him curl his fingers around hers and give them a little squeeze. "Natasha, you look…" He shakes his head.

"Wow," Natasha says with a bit of a laugh, her tone teasing, even as a faint blush touches her cheeks. "I guess if I can make you of all people speechless, I did a good job."

He breathes out a chuckle, dips his head forward and presses his lips to hers. He means for the kiss to be short but sweet, soft but brief, but—

But he can't help but kiss her a little harder, licking at the seam of her lips. She makes this soft, barely there noise that he almost doesn't catch, leans into him ever so slightly, and he brings a hand up to cup her jaw. He wants to tangle his fingers in her hair and kiss her harder, but she'd definitely be pissed at him if he messed it up before they even.

(It's happened before.)

She presses a hand against his chest, pushing gently as she eases her lips off of his in a breathy chuckle. "Easy, soldier," she whispers. "There are children present."

"Hey!" Peter protests. Steve chuckles, too, and pulls back, grinning as Natasha rubs at his lips, smearing off the smudge of her lipstick. "I'm _sixteen_. I've seen people kiss before."

Steve smirks a little. There would've been a little bit more than kissing if she hadn't stopped them. He's not about to tell Peter that, though.

Natasha hums, walks over to the hallway closet to grab her coat. Steve helps her into it, presses a kiss to her temple as she buttons herself in, just because he can and he wants to. She grins and shakes her head before turning to Peter. "Make sure you lock up when your aunt gets you." Peter gives her a two-fingered salute. "And don't eat her cookies."

"You made cookies?" Steve asks as Peter says, "Uh, no promises!" Natasha laughs – at the both of them, Steve's sure. "You kids have fun!" he adds as they head for the door.

Steve chuckles as they step outside, closing the door behind them. He reaches for her hand, threads their fingers together and gives a little squeeze, and she glances at him with this little smile as they step onto the elevator. She takes a step closer, until she's pressing against him, and he lets go of her hand to pull her into his arms.

"I did, you know," she says after a moment, winding her arms around his neck. She leans up, nudges her nose against his. He breathes her in. "I forgave you a long time ago."

"I didn't deserve it," he murmurs against her skin, brushing a kiss to her cheek before trailing his lips down, along the underside of her jaw, the column of her throat. She tucks her fingers into his hair and sucks in a breath, clings onto him a little tighter. "And I don't deserve it now."

"Steve—"

He smirks nips at her skin, smirks against it as she lets out this little noise. "Because right now, all I want to do is tear you out of that dress."

"Steve," she breathes, arching into. He thinks she means to sound stern, but her voice quivers. "We haven't even gotten to the restaurant. We haven't even left the building."

He slips his hand under her coat, slides it up her side, over her curves. Her eyelashes flutter.

"So?"


	36. Day Thirty-Eight

**Rating:** M-ish  
 **Word Count:** ~1,300  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "staying at cabins across from each other in the mountains And person A plays music seriously all of the time and when person B looks at open window whoops A is taking a shower... Don't look don't look don't look- happens several times- little does person b know a has been showing off cuz they know B is looking!"

 **For:** i-cannot-escape-this-fandom

 **A/N:** I know this was probably meant to be in Steve's perspective, but I don't think I'd ever pass up the opportunity to write Seductive Natasha. She's just too fun!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-eight  
**

The first time is on accident, she swears.

Natasha doesn't think twice about the glass showers and the mostly glass walls of the mountain cabin that Sharon's parents booked for their winter vacation. Mostly because they have the place to themselves as a "Christmas present" (Natasha knows there'll still be gifts for them to open under the tree, even if the reservation still cost them a pretty penny) and she's not about to complain. They're high up enough that there's only one other cabin within sight, anyway, so it's not that big of a deal. She's not all that worried about someone peeking in.

And it's not like she has much shame around Sharon. They've known each other since _birth_ , practically. Of course she's comfortable with the girl.

She knows that Natasha likes to blast music when she showers, so much so that Sharon doesn't even bother knocking if she has to come in because Natasha wouldn't even hear it. The girl has seen her naked dozens of times before (they used to share _baths_ ) and neither of them even blink an eye when it happens. That's the definition of friendship, honestly.

So, no, Natasha doesn't necessarily put two and two together that blasting music in the shower means possibly drawing attention to herself, especially with the glass walls and the window more than a little bit cracked to air out the steam. She and Sharon basically spent all of yesterday lounging around in the room, swapping Netflix picks and not actually paying attention to the TV because they were talking so much, and it was _nice_. It's always easy to forget about the rest of the world when they're together and college hasn't changed that.

She's rinsing out the shampoo from her hair when she catches something move out of the corner of her eye.

That's when she pays any real attention to the other cabin on this side of the mountain with them, and she realizes that the master bedroom is on the side of the house facing the back side of theirs. Which means that her shower is in the direct line of sight of anyone who happens to be looking out the window.

Of course.

Natasha almost laughs at the irony, reaching to close the curtain, except she sees someone step back into the bedroom and, _oh_. Well. He's incredibly attractive.

She hesitates, gripping the curtain. She feels a little ridiculous right now. Does she really want a stranger to catch a glimpse of her just because he looks good from an angle?

But then he turns just so to face the window – to face her – and her heart does this stupid little flutter. Okay, he's _ridiculously_ attractive.

He's also staring right at her.

He blinks, caught off guard, and then parts his lips and takes a half-step back in surprise. She can't quite tell from this distance, but he seems a little flustered. _Obviously_. Any decent human being would be in this situation. But he doesn't seem completely embarrassed. He also doesn't look away.

It's ridiculous that this makes him even more attractive to her, but it does.

So she curves her lips in a bit of a smile, waves her fingers and him and then turns around without waiting for a reaction, leaving the curtains open.

... ...

She sees him in the lodge two days later. He's halfway across the room and doesn't notice her, but she knows that that's him.

Sharon notices him, too – and she notices _Natasha_ noticing him. Of course she does, and of course she throws in a comment about how hot he is, just to get a reaction. Natasha just hums in agreement and sips on her hot chocolate, but of course Sharon isn't convinced by the nonchalance.

When they're back in their cabin and showered up from a day on the slopes, Sharon goes to grab the hairdryer from Natasha's bathroom and has this _smirk_ on her lips when she comes back. "I was wondering why your showers seemed ridiculously long, even for _you_ ," she says, and Natasha isn't going to play pretend here, so she just grins and shrugs a shoulder and pops another chip into her mouth. Sharon laughs and shakes her head, plops onto her mattress. "I feel like I should be pissed that he's looking at all, but if you're putting on a show—"

"I'm not _putting on a show_ —"

"—then what I should be pissed about is why nothing's happened yet! We've got five more days here. If you don't make a move, I will."

Natasha laughs because she knows the girl is just teasing. (They would never, _ever_ take something from the other like that.) "I'm trying to be subtle and not scare the poor boy."

Sharon flashes a smile. "He's seeing you wet and naked, and your approach is subtle?"

Natasha laughs again. The girl's got a point.

... ...

She's just lathered her gauze sponge in body wash when she catches something – some _one_ – move out of the corner of her eye. She pauses, waiting for him to draw the curtains, but he doesn't, and she feels a warmth flutter in her stomach as a smirk tugs at her lips. He can't see it, but still.

The bass of the song that's playing from her speakers thrums through the walls, raises goose bumps on her skin as she stretches her arm out and drags the sponge slowly up and down, before dipping it across her chest and soaping up her other arm. She rolls her head to the side, tips it back ever so slightly as she lathers the column of her neck and then drags it lower, _slower_ , so much so that her own stomach flips when she brings it up to soap one of her breasts. She bites on her lower lip a little, lets herself get drawn away for a moment in the sensation before dragging it across her chest to her other breast. The noise she lets out echoes off of the walls as her eyelashes flutter open, and she turns her head _just a little_ —

He's still watching. Her heart does another little flutter in her chest.

She holds his gaze as she drags the sponge down her body, even slower, gnawing on her lower lip. He takes a half-step forward – a small, barely there movement, but one that she still catches – and that's how she knows that he's just as into this as she is. That he probably ( _definitely_ ) wants to touch her as much as she wants him to.

She dips her hand, bends her leg at the knee and angles towards him just a little more as she drags the sponge over the flat of her stomach, between her legs—

(Sharon has this satisfied little smile on her face later, when Natasha wobbles ever so slightly on her way to the couch. Natasha couldn't care less.)

... ...

"That'll be two-oh-six," the elderly lady at the lodge tells Natasha as she's ringing up her hot chocolate.

Natasha has barely reached into her pocket when someone lays a $5 on the counter and slides it over to the employee. "Make that two, please," a voice says, and somehow – _somehow_ – Natasha already knows who this is. She turns to look over her shoulder, grinning before she can quite catch it, and the guy smiles back.

"Do you two know each other?"

"Sort of," Natasha replies. She wonders if someone can technically still be considered a stranger when he's watched you touch yourself. And you let him.

The lady gives them this little smile, like she thinks they're so cute, and turns around to get his hot chocolate ready. The guy leans an arm on the counter, expression turning a little sheepish, but it's cute. "Ma'am," he greets, and, oh dear. He's a charmer, she can tell. That's dangerous.

But so is she. "Hi," she returns, holding her hand out, and his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly before he goes to shake it. She knows he's picturing what happened earlier.

That was kind of the point.


	37. Day Thirty-Nine

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda, Pietro  
 **Prompt:** "Bucky + Pietro (+ Winterwitch): overprotective big brother Pietro agrees to help Bucky pick out a gift for Wanda (despite Bucky not really even asking him for help) to make sure he gets something Wanda would actually like (and maybe sorta also to make sure he gives the better gift for Christmas hur hur hur)."

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** We all need more Big Brother Pietro in our lives!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-nine  
**

He doesn't exactly ask Pietro to come along. It kind of just – _happens_.

And Bucky likes the guy, obviously. Of course he does. Not just because he's Wanda's brother (her _twin_ ) but because he's a good guy. He kind of reminds him of Steve a little, just always happy and kind of a punk half the time, but he always means well. Pietro just does his own thing and talks his way into anything and everything before you can even _blink_.

Which is how Bucky finds himself picking the guy up from his and Darcy's apartment so they can go shopping for Wanda's Christmas gift together. Shit.

They've never really hung out before as just the two of them, but that's not for any particular reason. Usually the team is altogether, or they're at least with Wanda, and it's not that Bucky doesn't want to hang out with the guy. Picking up Wanda's gift tonight was supposed to be something he wanted to do on his own. He didn't even tell Steve that this is what he had planned tonight when the guy asked if he was free to grab a drink. He just… He's got a lot to think about, alright? But, if anyone were to tag along with him to pick out Wanda's gift then Pietro would probably be his best bet. He knows the guy probably just wants to know what he's getting his sister so he can one-up him, too. It's kind of a game of theirs, but not.

(Not that there's ever going to be a winner. Wanda wouldn't choose between them and they'd never put her in the position to. She loves them both and they know it.)

"You don't have any idea what you're getting her, do you?" Pietro asks as they shoulder their way out of another store.

"What?" Bucky gives him a look. Pietro flashes a smile. "Of course I do."

"Well, we've hit ten different stores – and I saw at least a dozen things my sister would love – and yet, you've gotten _nothing_." He arches an eyebrow. "It's a good thing I came along."

Bucky breathes out a laugh. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Pietro repeats, sounding a little surprised. Bucky smiles and shakes his head. "Ah, I knew you loved me, Barnes." He throws an arm around Bucky, a smirk tugging at his lips as he adds, "And because you love me so much, why don't you tell me what this is really about? Because Wanda told me you put her presents under the tree _a month_ ago."

Bucky scratches at his chin. "No such thing as getting my girl too many presents, right?"

Pietro raises his eyebrows, grinning. "You're supposed to be a better liar, no? You are a spy, aren't you?"

"Soldier," Bucky corrects. "And technically, not anymore."

Pietro sort of glances at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowing a little, the same way Wanda's do when she's in thought. It almost makes Bucky laugh. Then Pietro pulls his arm back and gives him this strange look. "You're nervous," he observes. Bucky shrugs his shoulders but doesn't argue. "Why?"

"Well, you're being all Protective Older Brother on me, so there's that." Pietro's lips twitch as if to laugh, but he doesn't. Bucky sighs. "You know, you totally jumped the gun."

"It's kind of my thing," Pietro points out, sounding amused. "And what did I jump the gun on?"

"I was supposed to have it already picked out before you—" Bucky stops himself with a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. He licks his lips, glances around, and then looks back at Pietro. The guy still has this little grin on his face, but he can tell he's curious (and also concerned) about why Bucky is acting so strange. "You know I love her, right?"

"My sister?" he asks, even though it's pretty much a given. Bucky half expects him to crack a joke, but he just nods, his tone genuine as he says, "Yes, I know you love her."

"She's—she's my life, you know?" Pietro smiles, nods his head again. "She's always seen more in me than I ever thought there was."

"She has," Pietro agrees. "Since the moment you two met, I could tell she saw something in you that was drawing her in. My sister, she has faith. She has hope. Life hasn't killed that spark in her, but with you? It burns bright. Maybe brighter than I've ever seen it."

"You think?" Bucky asks.

Pietro laughs. "Yes, I think I know my sister pretty well."

Bucky nods, slowing himself to a stop, and Pietro stops, too, giving him another strange look. "That's why… I mean, as much as this was supposed to be kind of a surprise for you, too, I'm glad that you invited yourself along." Pietro laughs. "I could use your input with picking it out," Bucky adds with a grin, nodding forward at the store they've stopped in front of.

A jewelry store.

Pietro raises his eyebrows, staring at the store for a moment. And then realization tugs at his expression. His eyes snap onto Bucky's.

Bucky grins a little wider. "Now's probably the part where I should ask for your blessing."

... ...

"How'd it go?" Darcy asks when Bucky and Pietro are back at the apartment a little while later. Wanda is here, too, because she and Darcy had gone out to lunch together while Bucky and Pietro had been shopping. She looks totally adorable with her hair in braids (Darcy's doing, he knows; she always likes to mess with Wanda's hair when they hand out) and a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She and Darcy are huddled close together on the couch under the same blanket. "You know, I was expecting you to have _shopping_ bags, not grocery bags."

"I got hungry," Pietro says, and Darcy's laughing as she rolls her eyes, hopping off of the couch to help him unload the groceries in the kitchen.

Bucky settles into Darcy's empty spot on the couch, grins and leans in when Wanda lifts her mug up so he can take a sip. He hums, licks the whipped cream off of his lips and scoots himself closer. She grips onto her mug with one hand as he nuzzles his face into her shoulder, combing her other hand through his hair. "Hi," he mumbles into her skin.

"Hi," she echoes. "My brother didn't give you too hard of a time, did he?"

"Nah, he loves me."

She giggles. "He likes to say it's the other way around." Bucky grins, presses a kiss to her collarbone. "Did you actually give my brother any say on my present?"

"Yeah, actually." He gently pulls her hand from his hair, curves his fingers around hers as he lifts his head, his face inches away from hers. She flutters her eyelashes and his heart does this little skip in his chest. "We know you'll love it," he says, and if she notices the way he strokes his thumb over her ring finger when he leans in for a kiss, she doesn't point it out.


	38. Day Forty

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "Romanogers + Steve finding out Natasha's pregnant while drinking some egg nog or hot chocolate"

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** I made myself giggly, that's how cute this prompt was!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty  
**

It's ridiculous that she's nervous about this.

This is _Steve_. He loves her and she loves him, and she knows that he's going to be nothing short of excited when she tells him the news. Of course he'll be excited.

She's just – she's freaking out a little, alright? Mostly because she doesn't know how this happened. (Well, she knows _how._ Quite vividly, actually.)

Bruce and Helen ran dozens of tests on her and came up with the same results every time and Natasha still can't quite wrap her head around it. She's always known that it would be impossible for her to carry a child after what the she'd gone through. Not just because of the graduation ceremony, but also because of all the trauma her body has suffered. She's been told this by countless doctors all her life, and you'd think that would make it easier to hear, but it doesn't. Not really. She's known that having a family wasn't a luxury she would ever get, but still. The fact that she _couldn't_ have that at all, no matter if she wanted it or not – if she even deserved it anymore – is something that always hurts, even just a little bit.

It hurts a little less with Steve, though. She still doesn't know how she could have gotten so lucky to have him love her, but she doesn't question it anymore.

She just loves him.

Which is why she wants this to be _perfect_ for him. He deserves it. _God,_ of course he does. There was never any question that he'd make a good father, and no matter how many times he told her that it didn't matter to him – that all that matters is _her_ – she knows that he's thought about it, at least once or twice.

And she didn't think she wanted this at all. The thought of being in charge of this little person had always terrified her, and she knew that she hardly had the emotional capacity to take care of _herself_ , let alone a child. There was no pretending that things were different with a child in the picture. She couldn't just drop all of her pieces and run when things got scary.

But, she doesn't want to run. She wants _this_ , and she wants this with Steve – a family. A little baby with his dimples and his bright blue eyes and his happy, happy smile.

She wants it. She really, really does.

"Nat," he mumbles, brushing a kiss to her temple. She grins and turns to look at him. "You're a dozen miles away from me right now."

She hums, lips quirking at the edges. He's got a mug of hot chocolate in hand, but that doesn't really stop her from scooting closer to him on the couch and hooking her legs around his hips, straddling him as she presses herself close. It's _freezing_ , even pressed up against him and his ridiculous body heat, so a little shiver ripples over her. "Close enough?"

He chuckles and reaches for the blanket she'd been using, tugs it over them. "Not what I meant, but yes," he says, and she grins a little wider and leans in to kiss him. "Cozy?"

She winds her arms around his neck, pressing herself even closer, if possible. "Very," she replies, and feels his laugh rumble against her chest.

He takes a sip of his hot chocolate – and gets whipped cream stuck to his lip; _fuck_ , this man is adorable – before bringing the mug close to her lips. "Want a taste?"

She nods and gently pushes his hand away before slanting her lips over his, and he makes this little noise of surprise from the back of his throat. She licks off the whipped cream from his lower lip before nipping it, earning a low groan, and she presses her tongue against his when he parts his lips for her. She can practically taste the bittersweet cocoa. She grasps his face with both of her hands and kisses him a little harder, a little deeper, and he brings his hand up to tangle his fingers through her hair. _Fuck_ , she loves it when he plays with her hair.

"Again, not what I meant," he breathes out a moment later, when she finally lets him up for air. His eyes are all dark and he's got that ridiculously sexy smirk of his at the corner of his lips when he says this, though, so she hardly thinks that he's bothered right now.

"But my way is more fun, isn't it?"

He hums. "Yeah, it is." He strokes the pad of his thumb over her scalp, smiling a little wider. "Want to tell me what you were thinking about?"

She gnaws on her lower lip, stroking the pad of her thumb over his cheek. "Maybe," she teases, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe?" he asks, amused. She grins, kisses the other corner of his mouth. His smile widens a little. "Does it have anything to do with why you're in such a good mood tonight?"

"Maybe," she repeats, and he laughs, pulling his hand from her hair and tucking it behind her ear. He holds her gaze and her heart flutters in her chest. Sometimes she can't quite fathom the way he looks at her, because no one has _ever_ looked at her with this much adoration before. No one has ever seemed so damn _content_ just by being with her, like it's exactly how he wants to spend the rest of his life. It makes her nerves settle even as her cheeks warm and her heart skips in her chest. It's ridiculous, but she loves how it feels.

He grasps her chin, tips her head forward to kiss the middle of her forehead, which he likes to do sometimes, when they're cuddled together like this.

(And, yes, that's exactly what they're doing; _cuddling_. She never thought she'd like to admit to it at all, but _fuck_. Her favorite place in the world is right here in his arms.)

He's done it dozens and dozens of times before, and maybe that's why she can't quite help the way the excitement bursts out of her. "I'm pregnant," she rushes out, voice soft and breathy, and, okay, maybe she should've at least waited for him to finish the gulp of hot cocoa he'd been in the middle of taking, but whatever.

She's waited long enough.

He swallows, hard, and then clears his throat. "What?" The corners of his lips are twitching into a smile, though, so she knows that he'd actually heard her.

She leans in, nudges her nose against his. "I'm pregnant," she whispers, voice quivering ever so slightly.

"Nat," he breathes, this laugh bubbling out of his chest. She laughs as he hooks his arm around her, holding her steady as he leans forward and all but slams his mug of hot chocolate on the glass coffee table, but she can't even begin to tease him about not breaking anything when he exclaims, "Nat!" and lays her down across the couch. She shivers at the rush of cold air that it causes, but then he's hovering over her, slanting his lips to hers and kissing her breath away. She lets out a little mewl, kisses him back. "You're pregnant?" he breathes.

She giggles (actually _giggles_ , because of course Steve can get her to do that) and nods. "I'm pregnant," she repeats. She doesn't think she could get tired of telling him that.

He lets out another laugh and dips his head, nuzzles his face into her stomach through the material of her sweater. She combs her fingers through his hair and feels her heart flutter as he nudges the hem of her sweater up and presses a hot, wet kiss to her skin. She tightens her grip.

"Parents," he mumbles into her stomach, lips twitching into a wider smile. Then he lifts his head to meet her gaze. "We're going to be parents!"

"We sure are, soldier," she says.

He slides back up her body, presses himself over her and drops a kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her neck. She hums, nudges her hips up against his. "You're—" He lets out another breathy laugh, like he can't quite help it. Like he's almost too excited to gather his thoughts. "You're amazing, Nat."

"You're not so bad yourself," she teases, and he just grins and nuzzles his face against hers.


	39. Day Forty-One

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "first date"

 **For:** steph21108

 **A/N:** Your prompt set up for another high dosage of sugary nonsense. Enjoy!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-one  
**

She's gorgeous. He's always known this, but it's different to just _watch_ her sometimes, to just stop and look at her and really take it in.

She's beautiful and gets even more so with every day, and of course he's noticed. _God_ , how could he not? That doesn't mean he has to like the idea of other people noticing, too.

She's twirling a chunk of her hair around the curling iron when she glances up, catching his gaze in the reflection, and her lips tug into a smile, her eyes sparkling. He ought to at least act a little embarrassed about watching her from the doorway, but he knows better than to try and pretend with her. She'd see right through him, anyway. She always does.

"Dad," Stephanie says with a little tilt of her head. _Fuck_. That reminds him of Wanda so damn much. "You're hovering."

"I'm supervising," he corrects, stepping into her room. "You know, you could always cancel. Spend the night with your old man."

"You're not that old. You're – what is it now? One-hundred-and-fifteen?"

He laughs. "See? I'm a teen, just like you."

" _Dad_ ," she says with an amused smile and a shake of her head. She totally gets that from Wanda, too, and you'd think that after fourteen years, he would be used to it by now, but he isn't. Not at all. He doesn't think he'll ever get over seeing all these little things that Stephanie picked up from her mama. Like the little wrinkle she gets between her eyebrows when she's concentrating, or the way she tilts her head ever so slightly when she's confused, and also when she's _pissed_. (It's a good thing he can decipher between the two.) She _looks_ just like Wanda, too, with her big, bright eyes and her dark hair that sort of curls on its own and falls perfectly around her rosy cheeks, and she's got those same ridiculously long eyelashes.

He _knows_ that boys will fall all over her the second she bats those pretty little eyes of hers. It's going to give him hell when she starts dating.

Which is now. _Shit_.

He exhales a sigh and sits himself on the quilted trunk at the foot of her bed, grabbing her stuffed teddy bear – Little Bucky – and perching him on his lap. It always, always makes Bucky smile when he sees the thing, because sometimes it's hard to believe that they've had it for so long. He'd won the stuffed bear for Wanda at a fair and hugged her for too long when she said that she didn't want to trade it in just because its left arm had a rip in its stitching. It never really had a particular place in their house, because Wanda always just left it perched on the couch or on their pillows or even at the kitchen table whenever she'd finished cuddling with the thing in the mornings. Stephanie had been the same way when it had been passed onto her, and _fuck_ if it wasn't the most adorable thing ever that she carried the thing with her wherever she went and pouted like hell when you tried to take it away.

Little Bucky mostly stays in Stephanie's room now, on her bed or her vanity, but sometimes he'll come home on a Sunday and find her cuddling with it on the couch while she's laying down, her head in her mother's lap as Wanda combs her fingers through her hair.

He loves his girls _so damn much_ , it's ridiculous.

Stephanie sets her curling iron down, picks up a sparkling clip and slides it into her hair. She glances at him in the reflection with a smile, then gets that little wrinkle between her eyebrows when she notices his expression. (He kind of might be pouting, just a little bit.) "Dad," she says, turning to face him. "If you really want me to cancel—"

"No, no," he says with a bit of a laugh. "It's your first date, baby girl. You should go and have fun." He lifts up the teddy bear, shaking it a little. "Little Bucky says you have to."

She giggles and shakes her head. "Are you sure you're really okay with this, Daddy?"

 _Fuck_. He had the hardest time when she was little and decided that calling him _Daddy_ wasn't something a big girl would do. He just really loves hearing it, you know? He hears it a little more again now, and he thinks that's mostly because Wanda told her to slip it out now and then when he needs to hear it, but whatever. He loves that his girls look out for him.

"No, I'm not sure at all. You're growing up too fast, and you're this brilliant, beautiful little thing that everyone's going to try and take away from me."

She giggles again and gets up, sits herself in his lap and sort of tucks herself against his chest, the way she's done since she was a little girl. She still fits perfectly in his arms, too.

"No one's going to take me away from you and mama."

He presses a kiss to her hair. "You promise?" She nods, tips her head back to smile at him. "Are you excited about your date?"

"I'm nervous," she admits, pulling Little Bucky from his hand and squeezing him to her chest.

"So was I," Wanda says as she appears in the doorway. He thinks it's kind of stupid that his heart still skips in his chest when he sees her. They've been married for seventeen years and together for a little longer, and they have a fourteen-year-old daughter. But he's still as crazy for her as the moment they met.

"You were?" Stephanie asks, perking up a little. She glances between her parents, amusement touching her expression. "You never told me that."

"Your father's to blame, of course," Wanda says, winking at Bucky as she comes to sit next to them on the trunk, and it sort of brings him back to when she used to sit between them on their bed while he read her stories and Wanda sang her lullabies. "He decided that he was going to keep our first date a little secret from me, so imagine my surprise when we were headed for the woods. I was in a skirt and tights and your father said that I didn't need to change." Stephanie giggles and sort of squints her eyes cutely at Bucky, making him laugh. "Turns out that he'd set up a little picnic in the middle of the grass, with flower garlands strung up from the branches and this beautiful quilt that he saw me eying from a thrift store a before. It was enchanting, and all the nerves just fell away." Wanda grins a little, adding, "And when it started raining on us, he swept me in his arms and kissed me under the stars."

"You kissed in the rain?" Stephanie asks with a bit of a giggle. Wanda nods. "That's so _you_."

"Caught a cold for a few days, but it was worth it," Bucky chimes in, reaching over to tuck Wanda's hair behind her ear. "You're always worth it, doll."

Wanda turns her head, kisses the palm of his hand, and then leans in and brushes a kiss to Stephanie's temple. "So, don't be worry, princess," she tells her, smoothing a hand down their daughter's back. "If that boy is making you half as nervous as I was on our first date, it means that you're in for a magical night."

"Just not _too_ magical, alright?" Bucky says. Stephanie and Wanda _laugh_ , and he swears it's his favorite sound in the world.


	40. Day Forty-Two

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha, Bucky/Wanda, Clint/Laura, Sam/Sharon, Pietro/Darcy  
 **Prompt:** "Romanogers, Winterwitch, Clint/Laura: First Christmas together."

 **For:** steph21108

 **A/N:** I… don't know what this is. So much fluff, it will consume you!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-two  
**

"They look really happy."

Natasha hums, sets her hand on Steve's leg and gives it a little squeeze. He grins at her. "They _are_ happy," Natasha says, as if it needs to be pointed out. Bucky hasn't really stopped grinning all evening, nor has he been able to keep his hands off of Wanda. It's not even all that inappropriate, either. He just always has a hand on her hip or on her shoulder or tucked into her hair, and the complete adoration in his eyes is hard to miss whenever he looks at her. They're all pretty used to Bucky being wrapped up in Wanda, but it's as if he's taken it a step further tonight, but no one's got any complaints. They're really cute, these two. Wanda hasn't quite stopped blushing, and her eyes are bright and sparkling as she keeps talking.

They're newlyweds and hosting their first holiday in their new place. They're allowed to be a little (completely) sappy.

Steve slides his hand over the back of her neck, brushing his thumb over the thin clasp of the thin chain, which he likes to do whenever she wears his dog tags. "I'm happy, too," he says with this cheeky smile, and she's laughing as she rolls her eyes. She doesn't know why _he's_ being such a sap, but whatever. She leans in to give him a kiss, anyway.

Wanda grasps onto Bucky's arms, grips onto the material of his reindeer sweater (Wanda's doing, obviously, but it somehow doesn't look ridiculous on him, which is impressive) and whispers something into his ear that makes him laugh. They're totally wrapped up in each other and distracted from getting the hot chocolates for everyone like they said they were going to before everyone opened presents. But it's fine. The kids opened their gifts in the morning and Baby James and Francis, Darcy and Pietro's son, are asleep in the guest room.

They're not in any kind of rush right now. Kind of a change in pace, but it's nice.

"It's like they're in high school," Clint says as he points the neck of his beer bottle at where Bucky and Wanda are still in the kitchen.

"Stop," Laura says with a laugh. "It's cute."

"I didn't say it _wasn't_."

"Oh, yeah?" Sharon asks, one eyebrow raised. "Then why do you have your grumpy face on?"

"You do know you're not _actually_ her father, right?" Darcy chimes in.

"Watch it, babe," Pietro teases, slinging an arm over the back of the couch to pat the back of Clint's head, making the guy scowl and lean away. Laura laughs again. "He doesn't like being reminded of that, right, Pops?" Pietro winks and Clint rolls his eyes, hiding the smile on his lips by taking another swig of beer.

"You better get all of the disgruntled dad behavior out of your system with Wanda now, old man, or Lila's going to give you hell," Sam says.

"Okay, screw you all," Clint grumbles. Laura raises her eyebrows at him and he adds, "Except you, babe," and kisses her cheek. Laura chuckles and shakes her head.

Everyone's laughing at this as Wanda walks back into the living room with a tray of mugs, Bucky following behind her with a plate of cookies in hand. "Did you guys forget your way around your own kitchen?" Pietro jokes, making everyone laugh again. Wanda just giggles and shrugs her shoulders cutely as she sets the tray down on the coffee table, and Natasha knows that her ring still catches everyone's eyes as she passes out the hot chocolates. They got back from their honeymoon a week ago, but it's still a little strange to think about it.

(It's strange about _any_ of them having gotten this far. To think that they can still have these kinds of luxuries in their lives – marriages, homes, _kids_. Stability.)

(But she stopped questioning it a while ago.)

Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel's laughter peels through the air from the den, and Bucky raises his eyebrows, glancing down the hallway. "I don't know how James and Francis are still sleeping through all of that," he says with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

"That boy can sleep through everything," Natasha says, grinning at Steve. "He's just like his dad."

Steve laughs, eyes sparkling. "Well, you certainly weren't complaining about it the other night, when he slept through us," he says, his voice nonchalant, and she sort has to stop and look at him for a second because _fuck_. It's ridiculous how this man can say something so casually like that and still make it sound sexy.

Sharon and Wanda laugh, and Clint groans, taking another swig of beer. Natasha smirks, gives him kiss that's a little dirty considering they have an audience, but whatever.

It's nothing they haven't all seen before.

"James is like that, too," Wanda comments as she settles onto Bucky's lap where he's sitting in the armchair. She smiles at him. "Maybe that'll be something our child will inherit."

Pietro coughs in the middle of sipping his hot chocolate. Clint clears his throat. "Whoa," Sam says. "Wait. You can't just drop that on us like that."

Wanda's eyes widen a little, her cheeks flushing. " _No_ , no," she rushes out with a bit of a laugh. Bucky is totally grinning at her as she sort of flails her hands. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm not pregnant. But we—" She glances at Bucky, and he leans in, kissing the bridge of her nose. They're ridiculously cute. "We've talked about it," she tells them.

"You'll make a great mother, Wanda," Laura tells her, her voice kind of soft and her eyes a little shiny like they are when she's getting emotional.

"Yeah, you're probably the only one of us _actually_ qualified to be a mother," Darcy chimes in, and then grins at Laura and adds, "Except for you, obviously."

"Laura's the exception to everything," Clint says cheekily, pressing a kiss to her hair.

He continues with something else, but a soft cry catches Natasha's attention, and she glances down the hallway. Steve follows her gaze once he realizes that something's distracted her, and he gives her knee a little squeeze and says, "I got it," before getting up. Pietro gets up, too, so he can check on Francis, and Natasha takes a sip of her hot chocolate as she glances at Bucky and Wanda. They're in their own world again as the others are talking, her ring glittering under the glow of the Christmas tree in the corner. Bucky grasps her hand, brings it up to brush a kiss over her knuckles, and she giggles, grasps his face in her hands and kisses him on the lips, soft and slow and sweet. Natasha smiles, turning to look away.

Steve and Pietro are walking back from the guest bedroom with Baby James and Francis in their arms, and Natasha feels her heart flutter, sets her mug aside and sits up. Maybe it's ridiculous that she still gets a little excited to see her own son even though she gets to see them all the time, but whatever.

Baby James's face _lights up_ when he sees her, babbling in excitement and reaching for her, and she presses a wet, sloppy kiss to his cheek as soon as Steve hands him to her.

"Hi, baby," she says softly, pressing her face close to his. He's still shaking off a little bit of his sleep, she can tell, because he wraps his little arms around her neck and just clings to her like he does when he just wants to be cuddled. Steve sets a hand on his back, which always makes her giggle a little, because it looks so huge next to his little body.

"Should we start passing out presents?" Steve asks, even though he looks pretty content to just sit with the two of them for a little longer.

Natasha glances around the room, at Bucky and Wanda huddled close together on the armchair, and Sharon sort of giggling as she feeds Sam a piece of her cookie. At Pietro and Darcy cooing at Francis as Darcy holds him up and lets him bounce on her lap, and Clint whispering something into Laura's ear that makes her start laughing.

"Nah," Natasha says, and Steve smiles, wraps an arm around her and pulls her even closer, Baby James resting between them. "I think we're pretty good right now."


	41. Day Forty-Three

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,500  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "Winterwitch, babysitting the Barton kids which leads to the "talk" of having kids"

 **For:** steph21108

 **A/N:** They're so precious it makes me want to _cry!_

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-three  
**

"Nathaniel, darling," Wanda says with a laugh, catching the little boy from behind before he can climb onto the kitchen table, "where do you think you're going?"

He giggles, letting her pick him up and cradle him against her chest, and then he sort of tucks his face into the curve of her neck and grabs a chunk of her hair in his little hand. He's tired, she can tell. He's been running around with his siblings all evening and was probably ready to go down an hour ago, but he kept squirming out of James's arms when they first tried to get him to sleep, so they let him play around a bit longer. It's fine. Their parents won't be back until morning, so it's not a big deal that the kids are up a little later than usual.

Wanda feels Nathaniel yawn into her neck as she takes her time loading the dishwasher, and she smiles, brushes a kiss to his thin hair and snuggles him a little closer. She loves how much energy the kid has, but her favorite part is always _this_ – his little arms draped around her neck, his breath warm against her skin as he drifts off to sleep.

She kind of loves this part. She really, really does.

"Auntie Wanda," Cooper says as he pokes his head over the railing of the staircase, flashing a toothy smile at her. "Lila wants to say goodnight before she goes to bed."

Wanda laughs a little and nods. "Want to help me finish this up, then?" she asks, and he bobs his head in a nod and heads downstairs, jumping over the last few steps. She grins and shakes her head. He always has all this energy, but she knows that he'll be out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow. It's just one of those things, she supposes.

He stacks the plates from the kitchen table and carries them over. "Can we have chocolate chip pancakes tomorrow?" he asks, glancing up at her as he loads the washer. His hair is still a little damp as it flops into his eyes, and she grins and brushes it out of his face.

"With a whipped cream smile, right?" He bobs his head in another nod. "Alright. But only if you give me a hand with feeding your brother."

"Deal," Cooper says with a laugh, glancing at Nathaniel, now fast asleep in Wanda's arms. "Maybe most of the yogurt will end up _in_ his mouth this time." Wanda giggles. Cooper grins. "But you're the only one other than Mom that can actually get him to finish most of his food," he adds. "Even Dad can't get him to sit still for more than three seconds."

"He just knows that I'll spoil him," Wanda dismisses, brushing her fingers over Nathaniel's baby thin hair.

But Cooper shakes his head, grins a little wider. "He says it's because you've got a mother's touch," he tells her, and Wanda pauses, glancing at him. "You're really good at this."

She laughs a little. "Babysitting is different than parenting."

"Yeah, but it's still like, a really good way to tell, right?" he asks, and then shuts the dishwasher and shrugs a shoulder. "And _I_ think you'll be good at it."

"Cooper," she says, feelings her cheeks warm. He shrugs his shoulders again and she hugs an arm around him, pressing a kiss to the middle of his forehead. He's a teen now, but he still lets her get away with little things like this and she thinks it's really sweet. "Let's get you to bed, alright?"

He nods, and then lets her keep an arm draped over his shoulder as they head upstairs.

Lila is giggling like crazy as she sits on top of her bed, swinging her legs back and forth as James whispers into her ear, his lips tugged into a wide smile. Wanda feels her heart flutter. She's seen James around kids dozens and dozens of times, but she doesn't think she'll ever get over just how good he is with them. Not because it surprises her, but because it's so natural to him. She knows that he still struggles with what he's done, the way they all have, but sometimes she thinks (she _knows_ ) that he feels he's not quite capable of being gentle. That kids don't know any better and that's why they seem to like him. But she knows that's not true. He's a good man and kids can tell. _These_ kids can tell. That's why they adore him.

Not as much as she adores him, though.

Lila catches Wanda's gaze, her face brightening as she pats James's metal hand on the bed to grab his attention. He meets her eyes and gives her a wink, and Wanda's heart does this little skip in her chest. Maybe it's silly she still feels that giddy little rush with him even now that they're married, but she doesn't care. She loves that feeling.

She loves _him_.

"Alright, kid," James says, drawing back her comforter. "Auntie Wanda's here. Ready for bed?"

Lila nods, hops onto her feet and throws her arms around Wanda's waist in a hug. "Good night, Auntie Wanda."

"Good night, darling," Wanda says, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

Lila shrugs her shoulders cutely and sort of jumps onto her bed, wrapping her arms around James's neck and giving him a little squeeze. "Good night, Uncle Buck," she says, and then lets him go, falling back against her pillows with a giggle. He grins and pulls the covers over her, leans over and kisses her on her forehead. "You'll still be here in the morning, right?"

"I promise," he tells her, and she tucks her hands under her cheek and closes her eyes as they shut the door behind them.

Cooper gives Wanda another hug, and James reaches over to ruffle his hair. "Good night, buddy," he says, and Cooper grins and echoes the words, gives Wanda a kiss on her cheek before heading into his room. Wanda smiles and switches off his light once he's gotten into bed.

"Want to set the little guy down?" James asks, nodding to Nathaniel's nursery. "Although," he adds, lips twitching at the corners, "he looks pretty damn comfortable right now."

She grins. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound a little upset," she teases.

James chuckles, slides his hands over her hips and draws her close. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of Nathaniel's head, then kisses Wanda's cheek, his lips curving into a smile. "Can't say that I'm all that thrilled about having to share you," he says, and she grins, shaking her head. "But if you come cuddle with me, I think I can forgive and forget."

"Lucky me," she says with a giggle, and his winks, tugging her down the hallway and toward the guest bedroom.

She's sitting up against the pillows when he slides his hand over hers where it's resting on Nathaniel's back. "Pretty sure I'm the lucky one," he says, brushing his thumb over her wedding band. His gaze lingers on her ring for a moment, lips twitching at the corners. Then he breathes out a bit of a laugh and glances at her. "You know, Lila said something funny earlier." Wanda raises her eyebrows and he gives her that crooked grin of his that she loves. "Well, it wasn't _funny_. But she… she asked me when you and I are going to have kids."

Wanda's heart flutters, her lips parting. James brings his hand up and brushes his thumb over her bottom lip, which he likes to do sometimes. Like he's making a promise.

"Yeah?" she asks, sounding a little breathless. He nods. "You know, Cooper kind of said something similar to me in the kitchen." James raises his eyebrows at her and Wanda feels her cheeks flush a little more. "He said I had a mother's touch."

James smiles, leans forward and presses his face into her neck, brushing a kiss to the column of her throat. She swallows lightly, her blood thrumming.

"You do," he murmurs into her skin. He takes a deep breath, his thumb tracing over her ring. "You'll be a really good mother, Wanda. If that's what you want."

"I do," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. Like she can't get the words out fast enough. She feels James smile against her neck, and this little giggle bursts from her lips. She doesn't know why she feels like she wants to cry, but she does. "I really do." He hums and kisses her pulse. "James," she says so he'll look at her. She hesitates. "Do you—"

" _Yes_ ," he says with a laugh, like she's silly for thinking otherwise. He kisses her once, twice, three times. "Yes, yes."

He presses his forehead to hers. "You'll be a really good father, James."

"If I've got you, I will be."

"You'll always have me," she says with a giggle, and he grins.

"Lucky me."


	42. Day Forty-Four

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Clint/Laura, Pietro, Wanda  
 **Prompt:** Clint taking the Maximoff twins to his farm for their first Christmas after they join the Avengers + "Do you remember when I told you I loved you?"

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** I… don't know what this is. I hope it was worth the wait, at least!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-four  
**

He can hear laughter coming in from the kitchen when he and Pietro get back inside, and that sound alone is enough to make trekking in the snow worth it. Because his kids want to drink hot cocoa around the fireplace, so outside they went to get firewood, freezing cold temperatures be damned.

What can he say? Whatever his kids want, they get. Usually.

Clint hears Lila's footsteps padding quickly against the floor before she comes bounding from the living room, throwing her arms out and exclaiming, "Uncle Pietro!" as if she didn't just see him half an hour ago. It's crazy to think that she was batting her eyelashes all shyly and peering at Pietro from the top of the staircase just two days ago, when Clint first brought the twins over. She hadn't even warmed up to Natasha this quickly and the girl _adores_ her Auntie Nat. She adores Pietro and Wanda, too, if the way she's practically jumping up on them and clinging to them like a spider-monkey is any indication. She does this now, and Pietro has his arms open the second she jumps into them, tossing her in the air and making her squeal.

If it were anyone else throwing his daughter around like some kind of rag doll, Clint would be pissed. He trusts Pietro, though, and the guy's got the reflexes, so it's fine.

"Did you miss me, little butterfly?" Pietro asks as he hugs her to his chest. She giggles (it's cute, how much she loves that nickname) and nods.

"What about me?" Clint asks, lips twitching into a grin. "You didn't miss your dad?"

Lila gives him a wide, toothy smile, still giggling. "She sees you all the time," Wanda teases as she walks over, carrying Nathaniel at her hip. The little guy's got his hand around a chunk of her hair and doesn't want to let go, but he's not pulling on it, at least. "Pietro and I are a special occasion."

"I don't know about _special_ ," Clint drawls. "You know what they say about house guests sticking around for too long."

Wanda laughs, and Nathaniel sort of peers up at her, giving her a wide smile. He'd taken a particular liking to Wanda right away and Clint can't wait to tell Natasha about it. She's not going to appreciate that. (Actually, he knows his kids will always love their Auntie Nat, so it probably won't make much of a difference. Still, he'll get some fun out of teasing her.)

"Can they come over all the time, Daddy?" Lila asks.

Pietro grins at him over her head as Wanda giggles. Clint resists the urge to roll his eyes. His kids are _traitors_. "I'll think about it, baby."

He shrugs out of his coat as he heads into the kitchen, drapes it over the back of one of the chairs and takes a deep breath. _God_ , he loves the holidays. The kitchen always smells like vanilla and cinnamon. He knows Laura is doing a little extra this Christmas because they have the twins over, too, because there's always a plate of cookies on the kitchen table, and they've let the kids get away with drinking hot chocolate with dinner the last two nights. It's fine, though. He knows Laura likes having company. He likes it, too. And he knows the kids love it whenever their aunts and uncles come over to see them. This is the first time that anyone other than Nat has stayed over for this long before, and he can't say that he hates it.

Laura and Cooper are washing dishes at the sink together, the both of them laughing as Laura flicks some suds at him. She catches Clint's gaze over her shoulder and smiles a little wider, and Clint can't really help the grin that tugs at his lips.

 _Fuck_. Sometimes he doesn't know how the hell he got so lucky. He's stopped questioning it, though.

"Lila, honey," Laura says with a laugh as she twists off the faucet. "I thought we talked about not climbing on your Uncle Pietro."

"She weighs like a feather," Pietro dismisses, though he still sets her down onto one of the kitchen chairs before Laura can ask Lila to get off of him. Clint almost laughs. Laura has a talent for getting people to listen to her without really trying and it's hilarious. Like last night, when Wanda was making the kids laugh a little too hard right before bedtime until Laura arched an eyebrow and Wanda giggled out an apology. Or right now, when Pietro goes to snatch a cookie off of the plate and Laura clears her throat. He yanks his hand back, smiling.

"Those are for Santa," Laura reminds.

"Uncle Pietro can have one, Mommy," Lila insists, even though last year, she _glared_ at Clint when he'd eaten one of Santa's cookies on accident. (See? _Traitor_.)

"Uncle Pietro can have a cinnamon roll instead, but _after_ he helps Cooper bring the blankets into the living room. And after he changes into his pajamas," she adds with a wink. Pietro gives her a two-fingered salute, drops a kiss to Lila's head before following Cooper out of the kitchen. "Why don't you and Wanda and Nathaniel get changed now?" Laura asks.

Lila bobs her head in a nod. "Do Uncle Pietro and Auntie Wanda have matching pajamas, too?"

"Your dad said that he'd get them, didn't he?" Laura asks, lips twitching at the corners. Clint almost lets out a huff. They get matching pajamas every year to wear when they camp in the living room so the kids try to wait up for Santa Claus. Laura had bought their candy cane-striped pajamas in the middle of November, but of course the second she found out that the twins were staying over for Christmas, she asked about the damn pajamas. Clint went to four different stores before he lucked out and found two more pajama sets in their sizes.

"Let's get changed, princess," Wanda says, taking Lila's hand, and the girl starts chattering excitedly about what she told Santa that she wanted for Christmas as she and Wanda and Nathaniel head up the stairs, as if she hadn't spent all of breakfast telling Wanda the exact same things.

Laura smiles as she watches them go. "The twins are really good kids," she tells him, in that same soft sort of voice she gets sometimes when she'd talk about the kids.

Clint grins, slides his hands over her hips and pulls her close. "They are," he agrees, because it's true. "You're a really good mom."

She laughs. "I'm not _their_ mom."

He pulls her a little closer, sort of nuzzles his face into her cheek. He feels her lips twitch into a wider smile as she hums, melting into his touch. "They see you like that, a little bit," he says. "They haven't had a mother in their lives for a while. Who better than to be that for them than you?"

"Clint," she breathes. He brushes a kiss to her cheek and she pulls back, eyes bright. "They look up to you, too, you know. They're incredibly fond of you."

"I guess," he says.

She drapes her arms around his neck, combs her fingers into the short hair at the back of his head. "Do you remember when I told you I loved you?" she asks. He hums and nods. Of course he does. How could he forget? "And do you remember what you asked me right after? About why I put up with you and your job? About why I loved you in spite of all that?"

He smiles, brings a hand up to brush his thumb over her lower lip. "You said that you loved me because you loved how much I wanted to change lives."

She hugs him a little tighter. "You're doing that right now with the twins. They think the world of you, just like our own kids do." She tugs his face to hers, so that their foreheads are pressing together. He lets his eyes fall closed and takes a deep breath, lips curving into a smile.

"Guess we adopted two more to keep track of."

Laura laughs, soft and bright. "And knowing you, you'll spoil them just the same."

Clint smirks. What can he say? What his kids want, they get.

(Usually.)


	43. Day Forty-Five

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** I would like to request Romanogers + tattoos (as much smut as you want, go wild!)

 **For:** girlwiththeredpurse

 **A/N:** Set in the royal 'verse because I jumped on the chance go back to it! It didn't end up being smutty, but I'll make it up to you ;)

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-five  
**

"I didn't notice this last night," she says, her voice almost in a pout, her fingertips tracing along his collarbone. He breathes out a chuckle as he opens his eyes.

 _Fuck._ She's lying on top of his chest with her hair pushed over one shoulder and a little pink still in her cheeks, her eyes sparkling, lips curved into a smile. She looks _happy_ , and if he'd known that giving into her meant that she'd look at him like this, he would've done it a hell of a lot sooner. Not that this changes the fact that she's the princess and he's her bodyguard (which either makes it ten times better or worse; he's not sure just yet) and they just had sex in her hotel suite. He's broken at least a dozen protocols in one night and would be more than just reassigned if her father, _the king_ , found out. It's a little hard to think about any of that right now, though, with the way they're tangled together, her breath warm on his face.

"You were a little distracted last night." His lips twitch at the corners as he splays his fingers over the small of her back, just as he had last night when she was straddling his hips, her head tossed back and her fingertips scraping down his chest. She hadn't noticed the tattoo then, either.

"I wonder why that was," she teases, giving him this _sexy_ little smile, and he can't help the way he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her down for a kiss.

That's kind of his whole problem. He knows that he has control. He's had attractive clients before and was able to stay composed.

It's different with Natasha, though. He didn't _want_ to hold back with her anymore, and she sure as hell didn't make it any easier for him to, either. Even if there hadn't been her flirty smiles and backless dresses and lingering touches (always just long enough for him to notice but for no one else to glance twice at). Even if she hadn't tempted him on purpose at all he would've fallen for her just the same. He never stood a chance. Not with that breathy, bright laugh of hers, and the way she ducks her head when she's embarrassed. Not when he's seen her dancing gracefully – _beautifully_ – across a ballroom in heels, and he's seen her dancing across the palace floors in her socks, and she'd taken his breath away all the same.

He never stood a chance.

She lets out this little, barely there whimper when he parts their kiss, bites down on her lip and flutters her eyelashes. She's going to be the death of him, he swears.

Then her gaze flickers back down to his chest, her fingertips trailing along the tattoo again as she reads, "A strong heart will take you further than any physical strength." Her lips curve into a small smile. "Pretty," she says, voice softer. "Who said it?"

"My mom." She glances up at him. She knows that both of his parents are gone; it'd been included in his assessment file. "I got it right before I enlisted. Sort of as a reminder." Natasha hums a little, smile curving a little more. "There was another part of the saying. ' _A strong heart means you'll never quit_.' But, it seemed like a lot to get for my first tattoo."

A giggle bursts from her lips. He gives her a crooked grin. "A veteran like you, afraid of a little needle?"

"I wasn't a veteran when I got it," he retorts, but he's not the least bit offended. She giggles again like she knows it. "And even a _little needle_ hurts when it's stabbing into your skin over and over again."

"Easy, soldier," she says, still laughing as she pushes off of his chest, straddling him as she sits up. He props himself up a little more against the pillows. "I know it hurts."

That catches his attention. "You… what?" She gives him this sexy little smirk. "You have a tattoo?" he asks. He feels like he should know this.

He'd seen her _naked_ last night. He definitely should know this.

"Guess I wasn't the only one that was distracted last night," she teases, curling her fingers around his wrist and drawing his hand to her body, guiding it to the small of her back again. Her lips twitch at the corners, eyes sparkling, and he moves to sit up, setting his free hand over her back to keep her pressed to him. She gathers her hair in her hand and pushes it to the side, baring her back to him as he looks over her shoulder, and that's when he sees it: the silhouette of a swan at the base of her spine, water rippling out from where it's floating.

"A swan," he says, drawing back a little to meet her gaze. "You got your royal service codename tattooed on your back?"

"Do you know where it came from?" He shakes his head. She smiles. "Swan Lake was my favorite fairytale as a kid. My parents would read it to me every night, or Tony would, if they were away. And my one and only ballet performance was as Odette in our school's rendition of Swan Lake."

She shrugs her shoulder a little and sort of ducks her head, the way she does when she's trying not to make a big deal out of something. But he grasps her chin and brings her eyes to meet his again. "That's beautiful, Nat," he says, and her lips twitch into that small but bright smile that she gets when he uses that nickname. "I bet you were amazing on that stage."

"It was a production with a bunch of ten-year-olds," Natasha laughs, though her cheeks are a little pink now. "I don't think _amazing_ is the right word."

He grins. "I bet your parents have it on video somewhere."

She narrows her eyes. " _No_."

He keeps grinning, sliding his hand up and brushing his fingers over the side of her ribs and she _yelps_ , dissolving into giggles as he rolls them over and presses her back into the mattress. "The royal princess in a tutu? _Someone_ has to have a copy of that." She tries to glare, but he just tickles her again, making her squirm. "I can always ask Tony."

" _Don't_ you _dare_ , Rogers," she snaps, and she almost sounds pissed enough for it to be convincing. He catches the way her lips twitch at the corners, though.

So he just hums as if still in contemplation, and her expression cracks, baring her teeth in a wide smile as she laughs and punches his chest. It doesn't knock his breath out or anything, but he still lets out an, " _ow_ ," and gives her a look. She shrugs a shoulders, still flashing her teeth in a smile.

"Fine," he says, dipping his head down to press a kiss at the curve of her neck. She makes this noise, her spine arching a little. "Now how will I entertain myself?"

"I have an idea," she breathes, tapering off into a whimper as he sucks gently over her pulse, his teeth grazing her skin. He wouldn't dare leave a mark and she knows it. Not where it'd be so easily exposed.

He has a few other places in mind, though.


	44. Day Forty-Six

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,700  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "stuck in an elevator together" au

 **For:** an anon

 **A/N:** Elevator smut. That's it, that's the story.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-six  
**

It's just her luck to get stuck in an elevator.

She probably should've taken the stairs, and usually she will. Their building isn't terrible, but it's old and there's always something that's breaking down or acting up. The elevator gets stuck at least once every other week. She usually just opts to take the stairs, but she wasn't entirely in the mood to climb three flights today.

"Still nothing?" James asks, glancing at her again. Neither of them have a signal, of course, but James has been trying over the last fifteen minutes that they've been stuck to get a call out, or at least a text. She'd sent a text to Pietro, too, but he probably won't see it right away. He has lab right about now, and she'd text Natasha, too, but she knows the girl is working. Just as most people would be at noon on a Wednesday. The one and only time she'd gotten stuck in the elevator had been in the evening, and it still took half an hour to get any help.

She checks her screen again and says, "No, not yet," when she sees that nothing's changed. She should probably text Pietro that her battery is about to die.

" _Fuck_ ," he mutters, scrolling through his phone again. Then he pauses and catches her gaze. It's dark, but her eyes have more than adjusted by now, so she doesn't miss the way his lips twitch into a wry grin. "Sorry," he says.

"I'm used to it," she reassures, grinning a little, too. "My brother swears like a reflex."

James chuckles, sets his phone down and leans back against the wall. They've both taken to sitting on the floor, and they're sitting opposite of each other, but there's not a lot of room to work with. James doesn't even have his legs spread all the way out and his foot has bumped into her more than once.

"He's the guy you live with, right?"

She nods, thankful that it's dark enough that he can't see the blush on her cheeks. She and James have had this sort of _flirtation_ between them ever since she and Pietro moved in three months ago. Or at least, she likes to think that it's been a flirtation. He could very well be this charming with all of their other neighbors, and he does seem incredibly polite. But she can't imagine him standing outside with anyone else at five in the morning just to ask how her novel is going. Honestly, she's only ever told a handful of people that she's even trying to get published, and she hadn't anticipated to add a near perfect stranger to that list after only learning his name a few days before. But she likes talking to him. She likes _him_.

"You know, I was kind of jealous of him at first," James says after a moment, bringing his hand up to run it through his hair.

"What?"

He breathes out a bit of a laugh, shakes his head. "It was stupid." He meets her gaze again, a sparkle in his eyes. "I didn't realize right away that he was your brother."

Her heart skips. "Oh," she says, voice soft. She's not entirely sure if she heard him right, if he actually means what she thinks he means. But then he gives her this little smile and looks at her like…

 _Oh_. Her heart skips again.

"How long?" she asks.

"Since I saw you," he tells her. She thinks it's not entirely accidental that his foot bumps into hers again.

"Yeah?" she asks. He nods, holding her gaze. She smiles. "Me too."

... ...

Her phone dies after another fifteen minutes of being stuck, but James's still has half a charge, so they know they've been in here for an hour by now. It's stuffy and _hot_ in here, and she's glad that she wore a skirt despite Pietro insisting she put on some pants since it was below forty today. She took her boots off and peeled herself out of her stockings, and she unbuttoned her blouse because she has a camisole underneath. James got this little grin on his face when she asked if he'd mind and he said, "I was waiting for you to ask because I wanted to take my shirt off twenty minutes and didn't know how to bring it up." She'd giggled at that, but then it died in her throat when he actually pulled it off, her cheeks flushing.

As if it wasn't hot enough in here.

They'd talked for about half an hour until they settled into a comfortable quiet, but she's starting to get antsy. She doesn't even realizing that she's tapping her nails against the floor until his fingers curve around hers, his thumb smoothing over her knuckles. She breathes out a sigh. "Sorry."

She shakes his head dismissively but gives her hand a little squeeze. "What's wrong?"

She gnaws on her lower lip, glancing up at the ceiling. "I'm not fond of small spaces," she admits softly, and she hears his murmur a curse. Her eyes snap back onto his, and she's a little surprised to see him genuinely upset. Like he wants even more so to get them out of here now that she's told him this. She musters a smile. "It's really not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is." He gives her hand another squeeze. "Come here."

She hesitates. Not because she's nervous, but because she really, really wants to kiss him, and she's sure she won't be able to stop if she gets any closer.

He runs his thumb over her knuckles again, giving her a soft but still incredibly sexy smile. "Let me distract you?" he asks, and her heart flutters in her chest because she knows that's not the only thing he's asking permission for.

She crawls over to him, settling on her knees between his legs, and she feels herself suck in a soft breath as he gently pushes her blouse off of her shoulders. His lips place a hot, wet kiss on her bared collarbone as he tugs her blouse off and throws it aside, and she doesn't really have a second to be self-conscious, because then his lips skim him to her throat and close over her pulse, sucking gently. She doesn't quite know what to do with her hands, but he's taking care of that, too, grasping her wrists and drawing them to his chest. She feels her fingertips tingle as she touches his skin, and he makes this sound from the back of his throat when she gently scrapes her nails down his abs, his muscles flexing under her touch.

"This okay?" he asks against her skin, bringing a hand up to tangle it in her hair.

"Yes," she breathes. He hooks his arm around her hips and lifts her onto his lap to straddle him, and she's fairly certain that being pressed together like this isn't going to help with the heat, but she couldn't care less. She's already sweaty and flushed and James doesn't seem to mind. She doesn't either. Not with him teasing his tongue against her throat.

They haven't even _kissed_ yet.

(Not that she's complaining, but still.)

As if hearing her thoughts, he skims his lips up a little higher, traces the tip of his nose along the underside of her jaw before tilting her head forward, bringing their faces inches apart. He glances at her lips, licks his own. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

Her lips twitch into a smile as her heart skips. She leans forward, nudges her nose against his as her eyes flutter closed. "Getting stuck in an elevator?" she teases.

He breathes a laugh, pulls his hand from her hair and grasps her chin. "Yeah, that," he says, and then kisses the giggle that falls from her lips. It's hot and hard and heavy, and she whimpers when he presses his tongue past the seam of her lips. She slides her hands over his biceps, digs her nails in. He grunts, kisses her harder.

She shifts her hips, just barely pressing against the denim on his thighs. She needs… she needs—

He pulls away so suddenly that it makes her head spin a little, and she actually makes this pathetic little sound, trying to catch his lips again, but he leans away, grabs his leather jacket where he'd tossed it aside and throws it behind her. "Get off," he says, gently sliding her off of his lap. She grips onto him a little harder and he grins. "Trust me, doll."

The nickname makes her blush even more, which seems silly considering what they're doing, but she nods, letting him slide her off of his lap and guide her back, until she's sitting on top of his jacket. She'll absolutely need a shower after this, but it's sweet that he laid his jacket out for her, at least.

He tugs her panties down when she lifts her hips for him, presses her legs apart and glances at her. She whimpers and nods.

He licks a stripe up her center, slow and broad and flicking right at her little bundle of nerves, and she lets out a little cry. She grasps onto his hair, digs her nails a little as he licks her once, twice, three times, and then pulls away and nuzzles his face to the inside of her thigh as he presses his palm to her wet folds and presses _ever so slightly_ —

" _Ah_ ," she mewls, and he mutters a curse, closes his lips around her clit again.

She lets her head fall back against the floor, arches her spine and tries to roll her hips against his mouth, but he's got his hands on her and holding her in place and she makes another pathetic little sound. He's teasing her with slow, almost tentative licks that are incredible but also _not enough_ , and she scratches her nails against his scalp, drawing another groan.

He keeps lapping at her clit as she falls apart, dragging out her orgasm, and she actually squeezes her eyes shut when he eases a finger into her, her walls still fluttering. He pulls back out, his lips twitching in a smirk against her thigh as she whimpers, and then pushes two fingers back in, and her lips part open in a soft moan.

"Another?" he asks, as if she can catch her breath long enough to answer, and then his lips close around her clit again.

(It's just her luck to get stuck in an elevator. Just her luck, indeed.)


	45. Day Forty-Seven

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,200  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** Hi! Can you do: Romanogers adopt a puppy and spend a snowy day at the park. When they go back home, Nat warms her soldier up in a special way.

 **For:** monij1493

 **A/N:** So more fluffy times than sexy times, but there's a _puppy_ – how could I not?

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-seven  
**

"Steve," Natasha says, amusement touching her tone as she watches him almost reach for the leash again. "Just let her play."

He breathes out a bit of a laugh and reaches for her hand instead. "Sorry." He sounds amused, too, like he knows just how ridiculous he's being. "It's just—she's little, you know?"

She almost smirks at that. "She's a pup, Steve, not an infant. She's fine."

As if she knows that they're talking about her, Stella's head pokes up from where she's sniffing at the snow, peering in their direction with her head tilted. _Fuck_ , this dog is cute.

Natasha has never been much of an animal person, because she's never really had to be, but it doesn't surprise her that Steve loves them. Just as it honestly didn't surprise her as much as it could've to have him come home one day with a bag of dog food tucked under his arm and a leash wrapped around his wrist, attached to a husky pup that sniffed her way hesitantly along the carpet and into the living room. She'd been a rescue; Steve found her alone with her leash caught in a fence, took her to a vet to have her checked and offered to take care of her while they called shelters and attempted to look for her owners. Once upon a time, Natasha might've been pissed at him for deciding something like this without so much as a phone call to her, but, she knows better. There was no way that Steve was going to leave the poor girl, and there was no way Natasha would've had the heart to tell him no.

It'd been an adjustment at first. Of course it had. Natasha had never, ever considered owning a pet before, because she was never even home long enough to accumulate enough dishes to run them through the washer more than once a month.

Things are different now. Not calm, necessarily, but stable – as stable as they can be, and it's… it's _nice_. It's made her a little less guarded, a little less defensive.

And, apparently, it's made her into a pet owner.

Stella's first few days with them had actually been with Natasha, because Steve had been in and out of New York to fly here or there to handle things with Tony. She'd been at Natasha's ankles the whole week, nudging her nose against her calf and sitting attentive wherever Natasha happened to be. Natasha had broken her own rule of No Stella on the Couch within two days, and Steve had come back to find Stella perched in Natasha's lap, the both of them cuddled up under a blanket while Natasha went through mission reports. Steve had gotten that ridiculous grin of his on his face, but the teasing she'd expected never came. Not even two weeks later, she'd actually sighed in relief when the shelter said no one called to claim Stella.

And it was never even a conversation if they were going to adopt her. It was just a given.

"You know," Natasha says, curving a smirk up at him. "It's nice to know that I'm not the only one you fuss over."

He tries to scowl, but his mouth twitches at the corners. "I don't _fuss_."

"You fuss, Steve. But it's cute." She stretches up on her toes, kisses the corner of his mouth. "Most of the time," she adds, quirking an eyebrow. He laughs, grasps her chin and kisses her on the lips, soft and slow and sweet.

Stella barks happily, trying to get their attention as she makes her way over the snow to where Natasha and Steve are standing. Natasha kneels down to get to her level and Stella climbs onto her lap, licking at her cheek and then peering up at her with her bright, blue eyes. Maybe it's little ridiculous to think this, but they remind her a little of Steve's.

Natasha glances up at him, finding a wide smile on his face, eyes sparkling in amusement. She knows that he won't say it, but she can tell how much he wants to tease her about getting attached. Whatever. Stella is fucking cute, okay? She's growing fast, too, and Natasha knows that they probably shouldn't have her jumping up on the couch or onto the bed with them much longer, but she's still little right now, so it's fine. Stella is pretty behaved considering neither of them have really tried to train her. They're not too worried about it.

Stella barks again, licking Natasha's cheek before hopping off of her lap and nudging Steve's leg with her muzzle, the way she does when she wants to play.

"Ready, girl?" Steve asks, pulling her little ball out of his coat pocket. She just stares up at him, tail wagging, and then Steve tosses the ball and Stella darts after it, barking happily.

Natasha laughs a little, lets Steve take her hand as they head after Stella. The girl will probably want to play for _hours_ now, but that's fine. They don't have anywhere to be for once, and it's great.

... ...

Stella passes out in Natasha's lap on the car ride home, which is to be expected after she'd spent the last two hours running her little heart out. Steve carries – _carries_ ; fuck, she's the most spoiled puppy _ever_ – her into the house and sets her in her bed in the corner of the living room. He catches Natasha by her waist as she's shrugging out of her coat, pulls their hips together and lets his face hover near hers. She smirks, lets her coat fall to the floor. "Hi," he says, and then presses his lips to hers before she can even draw a breath to answer.

He kisses her a little harder than she anticipated, a little deeper, a little _dirtier_ , and her heart thrums. He nips at her lower lip before parting, nudging his nose with hers.

"Hi," she says, and yes, she's teasing him. He grins. "You're in an awfully good mood."

He hums and kisses her again, once, twice. "I just spent the day at the park, with my beautiful girlfriend and our pup," he tells her, soft and slow, splaying his hands over her back. He shrugs his shoulder, like even _he_ doesn't know quite what he's trying to say. "Just never thought that I'd get days like this again, after everything."

"I know," she tells him, because she does. She really, really does. Instead of saying the words, though, she just kisses him again, scraping her nails down his chest through the material of his thermal. It rumbles in a low groan under her fingertips and she smirks, scratches at his muscles.

"You know, we forgot to stop for hot chocolate on the way back," he points out, giving her hip a squeeze. "I'm still cold. Happens when you're on ice for seventy years."

She _laughs_. "You're terrible." He smirks, slides his hands down her side and slips them under the hem of her shirt. She tilts her head, grasping onto the buckle of his belt. "What makes you think I want to warm you up?"

"Because you love me," he declares with a smirk.

"That I do," she says, and he lets her pull his hands out from under her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and tossing it onto the floor. His lips twitch, eyes sparkling, and she curves her fingers around his and gives them a gentle squeeze as she tugs him toward the bedroom. They lock the door behind them, just in case, but Stella sleeps right through them.

She's used to it by now.


	46. Day Forty-Eight

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda, Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** Bucky + Natasha is one of my favourite BROTPs so can I please get a fic where Bucky is just starting to fall for Wanda and is freaking out and Natasha notices so she talks to him and they have a conversation about finding love after all the crap that's been done to them? :D

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** I hope you melt into a puddle of feels like I did writing this.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-eight  
**

"You're staring."

"I prefer to call it _observing_ ," she says, lips twitching at the corners. Steve chuckles. "Your best friend seems to be enjoying himself over there."

"Yeah." Natasha can practically hear the smile in Steve's voice, and then he leans forward and brushes a kiss to her temple, which he likes to do sometimes (all the time) when he gets sentimental. She's long stopped teasing him about it. She kind of adores it too much.

Wanda's giggle trails through the air again, and Natasha knows that everyone turns to look at them again – at their bodies huddled close and angled toward each other on the couch, at the sparkle in their eyes and the small, content smiles on their faces. But neither of them seem to notice all of the attention on them, though. They don't seem to notice anything that isn't each other. It's been happening more and more recently, so much so that Pietro has even eased off some of his protectiveness because his sister _lights up_ whenever Bucky walks into the room, and he doesn't have the heart to try and get between that. None of them do. That's why they're trying not to meddle, though Clint and Sam really want to at this point.

They're not sure what's taking the two of them so long to figure things out. Natasha might have an idea.

A few moments later, Natasha watches as Wanda reaches for Bucky's metal hand, tilting her head closer, but then Bucky sort of half-turns away from her and it's as if Wanda's entire body pauses at that. She blinks, confused, and then her expression dims ever so slightly as she loosens her grip on his hand.

Bucky looks torn, a flash of _something_ in his eyes – panic, regret, longing, all at once – as he murmurs something and gets up. Wanda's lips part a little, her forehead wrinkling.

Natasha _hates_ seeing that look on her face.

Wanda watches Bucky go as he steps out onto the balcony, running his metal hand over his face and through his hair as she goes, and Natasha's up and walking over to the girl before she can quite help it. Wanda doesn't turn to look at her, but she doesn't seem surprised at all when Natasha reaches down and tucks some of Wanda's hair behind her ear.

"Don't take it too personally," Natasha tells her. Wanda breathes out a bit of a laugh, leans into Natasha's palm, still staring after Bucky. "Wanda, you mean a lot to him. You do."

"Then why does he keep pulling away?" Her voice is soft and small and Natasha feels her chest squeeze a little.

"Because that's how much you mean to him." Natasha smooths her thumb over the apple of the girl's cheek once, twice, until the girl tips her head back to meet Natasha's eyes. She gives Wanda a smile, taps a finger on the bridge of her nose. Wanda's lips twitch at the corners. "Why don't you go cuddle with Steve? That always makes me feel better."

Wanda breathes out another laugh, a little brighter this time, and nods. Steve smiles at the girl as she walks over to him, doesn't hesitate to let her fold herself onto his lap and burrow into his chest. He curls an arm around her, says something that makes her giggle as he catches Natasha's gaze over her head. Natasha gives him a two-fingered salute and he grins.

Bucky is leaning against the railing when she steps out onto the balcony, too distracted by the city below to notice her until she's a few paces away.

"Hey," he greets, straightening up and starting to shrug out of his jacket to offer it to her. It's hard not to find it endearing just how similar he and Steve are, down to their core. She supposes that's to be expected when you're raised together.

"I'm fine," she reassures, stepping a little closer, curling her fingers over the railing. "I'm not entirely sure if Wanda is, though."

Bucky winces. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," she reminds gently. She'd meant it to be easy, teasing, but Bucky just exhales slowly and nods, tucks his hands in his pockets. That distant, almost dazed look on his face again. He gets it a lot whenever he's thinking about Wanda, which would be sweet if it wasn't so wistful. Natasha feels a tug at her chest. "Wanda is pretty great, isn't she?" she asks. Bucky just hums. "She's the best out of all of us and you're the one she's fallen in love with." His eyelashes flutter ever so slightly, lips parting, but he doesn't seem surprised, exactly. He seems hesitant, and he still won't look at her. Natasha smiles. She knows what he's feeling all too well. "It's alright to be in love with her, too."

He lets out a sharp, soft breath, almost like a laugh. "I'm hardly what's good for her, though."

"I know she's the youngest, but I think she's more than capable of deciding what is and isn't good for her." Bucky finally glances at her. Her lips twitch in a grin. "Don't you think?"

"Yeah," he says, almost with a laugh, like he knows he's not actually saying what he wants to. This isn't about what's _good_ for her and what isn't Wanda can handle herself and Bucky knows this. She can handle _him_. He just doesn't want to put her through that. "I've got too much blood on my hands."

"So does Wanda." His eyes snap onto hers, flashing in protectiveness. She fights off a smirk. _He's a hopeless puppy_. "I do, too, but Steve—he loves me regardless, doesn't he?"

Bucky's lips tug at the corners. "He does love you," he says, sincere. It's ridiculous that hearing so still makes her heart flutter, but whatever. "He loves you so damn much, Natasha."

She smiles, ducks her head and peers over the balcony at the city. She curls and uncurls her fingers over the railing, letting a soft breeze pass through. "I know it's scary to be in love after what we've gone through," she says, voice softer. "It's terrifying to find out where we belong, what we're meant to be, after years and years of someone being in our heads and making all the choices for us. God knows that I spent more time running from myself than I ever did running from the KGB or from Hydra or whoever wanted to kill me, or use me."

"What helped?" he asks.

"Steve," she says simply, easily. She turns to find him looking at her, and his expression doesn't seem quite as far off, not as hesitant. "Turns out I didn't just want him in my life. I _needed_ him. Just as he needs me, just as he needs you, and Sam, and Tony. Just as we all need each other." She smiles at him. "Just as you need Wanda."

"And she needs me," he says, voice so soft that she might've not caught it. His lips twitch at the corners, into a small but _bright_ smile, his own words settling in.

"Guess your head isn't such a lost cause after all," she teases, letting go of the railing. She steps backwards, pauses at the sliding door. "Now, are you going to stop breaking that girl's heart, or am I going to have to rip off that other arm?"

He _laughs_ , shakes his head. "Leave it to Steve to fall for someone that scares the shit out of me."

"If it's any consolation, I scare the shit out of him, too," she says, and Bucky laughs again, heading inside with her.

Steve looks up when they walk over, Wanda asleep on his chest ( _fuck_ , this kid is cute). He looks at Bucky, who gives him a soft smile and gestures to Wanda. Steve sits up straighter and helps Bucky get her into his arms. She stirs a little as Bucky lifts her up, her hands automatically clutching at his shirt. She blinks her eyes open, eyebrows furrowed as she asks, "James?" sleepily, but he shushes her, brushes a kiss to her forehead and tells her to go back to sleep, that he's got her. She _smiles_ and snuggles herself closer, breathes his name.

Steve pulls Natasha onto his lap, cradles the back of her head and kisses her, soft and sweet. "Why does he listen to you better than he listens to me?"

"Because I'm such an old romantic," she says with a laugh, and Steve just chuckles and catches her lips in another kiss.


	47. Day Forty-Nine

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,100  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** Baby Stephanie's birth

 **For:** steph21108

 **A/N:** I could've written about the actual birth, but, this seemed fluffier.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day forty-nine  
**

For all of the squirming and crying she'd done when the doctors fussed around and cleaned her off, Stephanie is totally quiet now, content to lay in her mother's arms in a peaceful sleep. Wanda had looked just about ready to drift off, too, right after everything was over. She's a tough girl, but seven hours in labor would tire anyone down to their bones.

But this is the most _awake_ he's seen her in days, her smile soft but _bright_ , eyes sparkling as she gently traces her fingertip down Stephanie's little cheek. Her cheeks are still a little flushed from the labor, her hair matted down and sticking to her face, but she's still the most beautiful person he's ever met, the most _perfect_. Especially like this, with the sunlight catching in her hair and their daughter – their beautiful, healthy baby girl, every bit as perfect as her mother – swaddled in a blanket and cradled in Wanda's arms. His heart skips, a warmth spreading in his chest as he stands in the doorway of the bathroom and just _stares_. Once, a long, long time ago, he'd dreamed of having a family. This is different, though.

This is _better_.

A moment later, Wanda glances up at him from under her eyelashes, teeth bared in a smile. His pulse quickens.

He remembers telling Steve, in the earliest days of Wanda and him and _them_ , about the things he'd felt around her. About the skips of his heart, the tugs in his chest, the tingles of warmth that spread over his skin. "Kind of strange to hear you talk like that," Steve had mused once, the twitches of a knowing grin on his lips. "You used to be quite the flirt."

He vaguely remembers those days, that version of him. What he doesn't remember, though, is any one of those dames – no matter how lovely – ever making him feel like _this_.

A smile, a flutter of her eyelashes, a giggle ringing through his ears, and he's a goner. Two years and having a _baby_ with Wanda hasn't changed that.

"James," she says, smiling a little wider. "Come here?"

He does, crosses the room in just a few strides and leans over to brush a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment before skimming them down to place a kiss on the bridge of her nose, then the tip of it. He hears her giggle softly, one of her hands reaching up to grasp at the material of his shirt and squeeze it between her fingers, the way she does when she wants him to come closer. He smiles against her skin, brings a hand up to cover hers as he kisses one cheek, then the other, and then he meets her eyes. She lets out this soft, barely there whimper, tightening her grip on his shirt, and he slants his lips over hers. He'd meant for the kiss to be quick but sweet, but she nips at his lip, murmurs his name.

He groans lowly, cups her cheek with his hand and kisses her a little harder, a little deeper, and then licks at the seam of her lips before drawing away.

"Hi," she says.

He can't help but chuckle. "Hi," he echoes, tracing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she says, sounding sincere. Her eyelashes flutter, and she lets out a breathy laugh. "I feel perfect," she tells him, her voice shaking ever so slightly, the way it does when she's overwhelmed. He knows it's a good kind of overwhelmed this time, though. The best kind, really.

"You _are_ perfect." He smiles down at her, heart skipping in his chest when she gnaws on her lower lip. "My perfect wife, holding our perfect daughter."

She giggles ( _fuck_ , he loves her voice) and gives a gentle tug at his shirt. "Does my perfect husband want to lay down with us?"

He chuckles and nods. The bed isn't all that spacious, but it's decent enough, and Wanda's little, so they make it work. They always do. She shifts carefully, the both of them pausing when Stephanie lets out a soft little sound, squirming in her sleep, but when Bucky settles into place beside them and Stephanie presses her little face closer to her mother's chest. Bucky drapes an arm around Wanda, pulling her even closer, and she leans over and kisses the curve of his jaw. He smiles, glances down between them, at their sleeping daughter.

"She really is perfect," he says, voice softer now. That word – _perfect_ – is something he doesn't use lightly. Not after all of the things he'd seen, the things he'd done.

But Stephanie is the epitome of the word, just as her mother is.

"She looks like you," Wanda comments, tracing her fingers through Stephanie's thin, dark hair.

"Nah." Wanda glances up. He grins. "She's too gorgeous. She looks like _you_." Wanda laughs and shakes her head, tapping her finger ever so lightly against Stephanie's tiny little nose. "Stephanie…" Bucky grins a little wider. He'd said it over and over and over again when he'd held her for the first time, but he doesn't think he could ever get tired of saying it.

"How did Steve take it?" Wanda asks, glancing at Bucky again. "I don't think I was paying attention when you told him. I wanted to see."

Bucky chuckles, warmth tingling at the memory. At the expression that crossed Steve's face when he'd told him that they were naming their daughter after him. Maybe before, Bucky would've poked fun at the guy for actually tearing up at the news, but Bucky had been the same way when Baby James had been born. It had been almost _surreal_.

"He loved it," Bucky tells her. Wanda's eyes sparkle, lips tugging in a smile. "He'd been speechless, which you know is a big deal. That punk always has something to say."

"James," she breathes out on a laugh, angling a look at him. He leans over and kisses her on the lips, soft and slow and sweet. Then he dips his head down and presses a light kiss to Stephanie's forehead, takes a breath. He didn't really understand whenever people talked about babies having their own scent, but now he does. He'll never get tired of it.

"Stephanie," he murmurs, kissing her again. She wiggles a little, and he swears her lips twitch in a smile. "My princess."

"I guess she does take after me, a little," Wanda comments. Bucky looks up to find her grinning. "Not even a day old and she's already got you wrapped around her little finger." He breathes out a chuckle and shrugs. She's not wrong. "How does that feel?"

"Perfect," he says quickly, _easily_ , pressing him even closer to his family. "It feels _perfect_."


	48. Day Fifty

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha, Clark/Diana (DC Comics)  
 **Prompt:** hi! would it possible for me to request a romanogers and clark/diana double date au for your holiday giveaway if that's okay?

 **For:** crimsonxblaze

 **A/N:** Made it entirely AU rather than a crossover, so I hope you don't mind! In my mind, this is the Henry Cavill and Gal Gadot portrayals except Clark is much happier than he is in the Snyder 'verse.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty  
**

Natasha can hear voices downstairs when she steps out of the shower, making her pause and glance toward the bedroom door. It's closed, but still.

 _A little warning would've been nice, Steve_ , she thinks as she grabs a clean pair of panties and bra from her drawers and slips into them. She knows for certain that she and Steve hadn't made any plans with anyone for today, though. It's the first Saturday in a while that's _theirs_ – no charity to make an appearance at, no meeting to attend, no photoshoot to get to – and they'd wanted to make the most of it. Spend the day lounging around the house, playing with James, maybe take a trip to the supermarket and then head out to the park for a little bit.

Steve would've mentioned making plans, especially if it meant inviting people over. Whoever their guests are must have showed up unannounced. Probably Tony, then.

Natasha's hair is still a little damp, so she pulls it back in a braid and twists it atop her head, pinning it in place. It's supposed to be warm today, so she slips into shorts and a camisole and grabs one of Steve's plaid button-downs, wears it open and loosely draped over her shoulders. He loves it when she wears his clothes.

She can hear laughing as she steps into the hallway, but the voice doesn't sound like Tony. It sounds – a little like Steve, if she's being honest. Light and happy and wholesome.

(So, definitely not Tony.)

Steve is standing in the foyer when she makes it downstairs, laughing with a man she doesn't recognize. The front door is still a little cracked, like they'd barely made it into the house before they got too distracted by their conversation. It wouldn't be the first time Steve's done that, but they live in a quiet neighborhood, so it's not all that concerning. The man is tall and broad, only a little bigger than Steve, but not by much. There're dimples in his cheeks and a little curl of hair resting against his forehead from where his hair is sort of flopped over, but it looks charming on him, somehow. The woman standing with him has a small but beautiful smile on her face, her arms crossed and her hair pushed over one shoulder. She's just standing there, watching the two men talk, but there's something incredibly elegant about the way she's holding herself. Then she glances at Natasha and her lips curve a little more.

She's _gorgeous_. "Hi," she greets, already stepping forward to extend a hand to Natasha. "You must be Natasha."

"I am." Natasha says with a smile as she shakes her hand, then glances at Steve.

"Sorry, love," he says, sliding a hand over her hip and giving it a squeeze. "I should've told you that they showed up but I got distracted." He kisses her temple, which he likes to do sometimes, for no particular reason, and then gestures at the other couple. "I think I've told you about Clark before, right? My college roommate?"

She nods. She remembers hearing the name a few times before.

Clark gives her a bright, dimpled smile and gestures to take her hand, and she lets him give her fingers a little squeeze. "Nice to finally meet you. Steve always goes _on_ about you, but you're already lovelier in person." She grins. Oh, that charm of his must be dangerous. Natasha knows the feeling. "And _this_ ," he adds, smiling cheekily at the other woman, "is Diana."

"His wife," she adds, letting Clark pull her in close. "Sorry to just drop by like this, but Clark insisted that we needed to visit as soon as we got into town."

"It's not a big deal," Natasha says with a bit of a laugh. "We don't have anywhere to be today."

"Maybe you want to join us for lunch, then?" Clark offers. He's got an arm draped over Diana, and she reaches up to lace their fingers together, letting their hands rest on her shoulder. The gesture is almost absent, like they've done it hundreds of times. It makes Natasha smile. "You'd know what's good around here."

Steve glances at Natasha with a grin and she doesn't really know why she laughs when she nods, but whatever. It makes Steve smile and kiss her, short but sweet.

They all go in Steve's car, which means that Clark and Diana will probably end up hanging out at the house even after dinner, but Natasha doesn't really mind the thought of it. She and Diana sit in the back seat with James while Steve and Clark are in the front, wrapped up in their own little world as they talk about some movie that they're both excited about. Natasha grins, glances at Diana to find that same amused look in her eyes. Then James grabs a handful of her hair and gives it a soft tug, babbling out a laugh, and Diana smiles at him and taps the tip of his nose. James usually isn't shy, but it'd only taken him seconds to go from peering at Diana in curiosity to constantly reaching for her, obviously excited about a new friend.

"He's precious," Diana compliments. James wanted her to carry him when they were getting out of the car, so Natasha let her. Diana seems totally captivated by James, too.

"He is," Natasha agrees.

"He's gorgeous, just like you and Steve," Diana adds. James is totally distracted by all of the other people at the restaurant. It isn't ridiculously crowded, but there's still a bit of a wait for their table. Steve and Clark left for the bathroom, and Natasha would tease them for having to go together, except they seem totally excited to see each other. It's cute.

"Your kid will have some amazing genes, too," Natasha comments, almost absently, but then Diana's eyes sort of snap onto hers, a little wide. Natasha blinks. "Wait – are you—"

Diana lets out a bit of a laugh and glances around, probably to see if Clark and Steve are on their way back. Then she answers, "I just found out two days ago."

"Diana," Natasha says. She's barely met the woman, but still. It's hard not to feel excited when you learn this kind of thing. "Clark doesn't know?"

She shakes her head. "I want to tell him on this trip. We're on business for the Daily Planet, but neither of us have been to New York before, so I thought it might still be special."

"It will be," Natasha tells her, meaning it. "You could've told him on the drive over and he would've pulled to the side just so he could hug you." Diana breathes out another laugh, her smile brighter, eyes sparkling as she nods. Natasha sets a hand on her arm, gives it a squeeze. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." She shifts James in her arms just as he's starting to squirm, coos his name, and he giggles and kicks his feet a little before getting distracted by a nearby table that bursts into laughter. She'll make a really good mother, Natasha can already tell. Diana turns back to her, still smiling. "So, how did you break the news to Steve about this little guy?"

"At this restaurant," Natasha admits. Diana raises her eyebrows. "It wasn't planned, but we came here and it was like all of a sudden, I couldn't get the words out fast enough."

"It is rather romantic here," Diana says as she glances around.

Natasha grins. "Well, it didn't really have to do with the restaurant." Diana glances at her, lips curving. "Maybe the urge to tell him will sneak up on you sooner than you think."

"Maybe," Diana says, her face brightening as Clark and Steve make their way back to them. Clark beams at her, catches her by her waist and kisses her as their name gets called for their table. He settles a hand on the small of her back as they follow the waiter, and Diana peers up at him in total adoration.

"They're great, right?" Steve asks as they follow, taking Natasha's hand and lacing their fingers together.

She hums, gives his hand a squeeze. "They are," she agrees, glancing at him. "So are you," she adds, lips twitching at the corners. She's not usually this sappy, but whatever. Steve gives her that ridiculous little grin of his, brings her hand up to kiss the tops of her knuckles.

As far as days go, this one is already pretty perfect.


	49. Day Fifty-One

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,600  
 **Characters:** T'challa/Maria  
 **Prompt:** "i'm a prince and you're my bodyguard and we're so not supposed to bang but we kind of did anyways" au

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** Just smut, like nothing else whatsoever. Technically set in the royal 'verse but it's not all that apparent because, you know – _smut_.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty-one  
**

They shouldn't have done this. They really shouldn't have.

But _god_ , did she want to. She has for a while, maybe ever since she got placed as his bodyguard almost a year ago, and she's not entirely sure how she held out for this long. He certainly didn't make things any easier. Not with all of his little smiles, and his low, smooth voice always in her ear, telling her how strong she is, how beautiful, how elegant. How he doesn't know if he'd be half the person he is today without her being in his life. How she's maybe the only person who he feels himself with. What does a person even say to that?

He's more than just a client to her, more than just _the prince_. That doesn't change the fact that he _is_ the prince, and she's his – and they shouldn't have—

"I can hear you thinking," he says, his breath warm against her ear. He's laid out across her, his lips brushing soft, gentle kisses over the column of her throat. He still has one hand on her hip, rubbing his thumb over the curve of it just as he had when she was falling apart around him a few minutes ago, back arched and legs _shaking_. Fuck. _Fuck_.

She hadn't realized until just now how long it's been since she's slept with someone. The fact that it was with _him_ , the only person she's really wanted in a long while, just made it so much better. Or worse, if you think about it, even though giving into sexual tension is always so, so _good_.

"We shouldn't have done this."

His smile doesn't falter, but she feels his fingertips stutter over her hips. He leans forward for a kiss, like he can't quite help it. "Do you regret it?"

"No," she says, and doesn't miss the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes soften ever so slightly, as if in relief.

He skims his lips lower, presses a wet kiss to the column of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her breasts, and she sucks in a soft, sharp breath, digs her nails a little harder into his biceps. "So, if you don't regret it, and I don't regret it," he murmurs into her skin as he moves over the flat of her stomach, "then perhaps that means we should do it again." He presses her legs apart as he settles between them, lifts his head and gives her that incredibly sexy little smile of his. He pauses, seeming to wait for her, and this – _this_ is where she should stop it. Doing this once could've been a slip in judgment. They can still walk away from this with her job intact, maybe even their friendship back to how it'd been.

But she – she _wants_ this. She wants this, wants _him_. And now that she knows what it feels like for him to touch her, she doesn't ever want him to stop.

 _God_ , she's so screwed.

She nods, and then sucks in a breath as he licks a stripe up her center, lets her eyes flutter closed as her head falls back against the pillow. _His_ pillow, that smells like him, and a little bit like her right now, too. She grips at the sheet with one hand, scratches her nails over his scalp with the other.

He laps at her, once, twice, making her hips jump. She's still a little slick and sensitive from the two orgasms he'd given her. It'll take nothing at all for him to work her up again.

He seems to want to take his time doing so, though, because he eases off of her folds, presses his face against the inside of her thigh and presses a kiss there. She glances down at him, catches his gaze as he smiles at her. It's ridiculous that _this_ is what makes her heart flutter, but, she's always been a bit of a sucker for the way he looks at her.

Like he's in _awe_. Like her very presence brings him peace.

He licks another broad stripe up her center, makes this noise from the back of his throat that makes the warmth in her stomach coil tighter and tighter. He hooks one of her legs over his shoulder, slides his hand over her hip and brushes his thumb over that spot that drove her _crazy_ when he'd been inside her. Right now isn't any different. She lets out this almost pathetic little sound, so he rubs his thumb there again and again, teases at her clit, and she arches her spine. He's working her slowly, almost tentatively, like he wants to savor all of it.

"T'challa," she breathes, and he makes that noise again, licks at her a little harder. She usually calls him _prince_ or _your highness_. He seems to like hearing her say his name, though.

So she says it again and he all but growls, closes his lips around her little bundle of nerves and suckles gently. Her hips snap, her body arching as she moans, soft and breathy, tugging at the bedsheet.

Then he pulls away almost abruptly, drawing a choked sound from her lips. He lays himself across her again, presses her legs apart and pushes his face into the curve of her neck as he sinks into her. He curses against her skin, his native language coming out in hot, wet puffs against her pulse as he rolls his hips lightly, shallowly. He wants to draw this out, to make it better for her, but _fuck_. It already is. She's not going to last and she can tell neither is he, which doesn't really matter at all considering they both had one of the most intense orgasms ever with each other just before this. "Move," she says – almost _commands_ – and it must catch him off guard, because he breathes out a bit of a laugh, amusement touching his tone.

"As you wish," he says, pushes in deeper and faster, and she feels her toes curl as she moves with him. Usually it's the other way around – her following his orders – but he seems more than happy to comply. He seems like it's just as pleasuring to him as it is to her.

" _Harder_ ," she tells him. She feels her thighs start to twitch, her hips stuttering to meet his thrusts. "I need you harder."

He sort of purrs in response, presses her thigh to the bed and angles his hips and sinks in even harder, even deeper, brushing against that sweet spot that has her arching off of the mattress with a soft cry falling from her lips.

"My queen," he murmurs, making her heart skip as her walls start to flutter around him. She digs her nails into his arms. "My Maria," he breathes out against her lips, and then kisses her, _hard_. She doesn't understand the tone of complete arousal and adoration in his voice, but _fuck_ , it feels incredible to hear.

She wants to make _him_ feel incredible, too.

"Wait, wait," she breathes out, pushing at his chest, and he doesn't pause, exactly, but slows his strokes, peering at her in confusion. Then she smirks and pushes off of the bed, rolls them over and makes this little noise as she sinks over him, legs straddling his hips hard. He lets out this groan, starts to say her name as if in protest even as he grasps at her hips and thrusts up into her. She actually _whines_ , a shudder rippling over her, her legs twitching, and she digs her nails into his chest. She rolls her hips slowly, trying to catch her breath so that she doesn't come in seconds. He's close, but not quite there yet, and she really, really wants them to come together. "With me, okay?" she says, leaning over him with one hand braced against his headboard. He groans, which feels _delicious_ with the way they're pressed together, and he slides a hand up and cups one of breasts, rolls his thumb over her nipple.

"Yes," he breathes as she rolls her hips. He hooks an arm around her, squeezes her ass as he thrusts up into her. She cries out, grinds down a little harder.

It takes nothing at all for her orgasm to start building again, her legs twitching, hips stuttering through her rhythm, but she can tell that he's close now, too. His breaths are coming out in shorter, shallower puffs, his thrusts growing a little more frantic.

"Darling—" he starts, but then she tosses her head back, scratches her nails down his chest as her walls start to flutter around him.

He grips her hips, thrusts up into her once, twice, three times, and then she's letting out a cry as she falls over that edge. He thrusts through her orgasm, dragging it out as he chases his own high, and she very nearly whimpers when he lets out a groan and squeezes her hips as he comes undone inside of her, her name falling from his lips.

Fuck. _Fuck_. She falls forward onto him and he pushes his fingers through her hair, holds her close through the tremors. She feels exhausted, weightless, but musters enough energy to lift her head and press a kiss to his lips, soft, gentle.

"Still not regretting it?" he asks, even though his smile tells her that he already knows.

She shakes her head. "Still not regretting it." Eyes twinkling, she presses their foreheads together and nips at his lips. "Perhaps that means we should do it again."

He _laughs_ , deep and rumbling, sending tingles over her skin. "You are going to be the death of my, my queen."

She grins. She likes the sound of that.


	50. Day Fifty-Two

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,500  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "College AU where rather then a drunk love confession someone confesses their love out of their pure sleep deprivation and amped on coffee and energy drink- kicker is neither of them remember but someone else heard outside the door and are expecting some sort of change- cue confusion and fluffyness from all parties as whoever heard spread the word and now everyone knows it but the two of them- Romanogers"

 **For:** i-cannot-escape-this-fandoms

 **A/N:** I kept moving this prompt around on the list because I wasn't sure how to tackle it, _but then I figured it out!_

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty-two  
**

"What?" Steve asks, because Sam and Bucky are kind of just _looking_ at him but not saying anything and Steve isn't sure what he's missing. Unless he isn't missing anything, which is possible. He'd been up until four finishing his portfolio for his final and honestly, the only thing really keeping him awake right now are the three Red Bulls from last night and the large coffee that Natasha had dropped off before his 8AM lecture. He doesn't really know how _she's_ got it together considering she'd been up with him all night too, but, well. It's Natasha.

She's always got it together.

Steve groans, falls back against the grass where the three of them are lazing on the quad. "Nat keep you up last night?" Sam asks, and there's something in his tone that makes Steve squint up at him, eyebrows furrowed. The guy's got a grin on his face.

"Someone had to make sure I got everything done," Steve replies, laying his forearm over his eyes. _Fuck,_ the sun's bright today.

"Uh-huh," Bucky hums, sounding amused. Okay, Steve's pretty sure he's missing something here. "Bet it was a pretty big moment for you?"

"Um," Steve says slowly. He's not sure what they're trying to get at right now. He'd spent last night pretty much how he spent every other night: in his room drawing at his desk with Natasha perched on his bed, teasing him through mouthfuls of takeout. Honestly, he doesn't know how she manages to eat almost as much as he does all the time and stay so _thin_. Seriously. It'd been warm yesterday, so she was wearing a pair of shorts and had her legs stretched out over his bed, and maybe he glanced over when she was on her phone and got a little distracted by how slender she was. She's got muscle and he knows it (she's a dancer and has done gymnastics all her life; of course she's toned) but sometimes it's hard to tell.

And, okay. That thing where he kind of checks out his best friend needs to _stop_ , because it's just – really damn confusing.

She's gorgeous. Anyone can see that. She's not just that, though. She's hilarious, and intelligent, and incredibly witty. She's kind of a dork, too (and by _kind of_ , he means _completely_ ) and it's hard not to find it adorable when she gets on a tangent about some old movie he's never heard of. She gets this twinkle in her eyes and just looks super happy.

He's attracted to her. He's allowed to admit that as her best friend, because obviously he knows just how awesome she is. The thing is – the thing that makes it so damn confusing is that it's more than just acknowledging that she's great and deserves to date a guy that really appreciates it. He wants to be that guy. He's wanted to for a while, actually, but fuck.

He's sure as hell not going to risk their friendship over it, because he can't lose her as a friend. He _can't_.

"Well, you look like shit," a voice muses, making him breathe out a laugh. He peeks out from under his forearm to find Natasha standing over him, the sunlight catching in her hair.

She looks like an angel, and he feels like an idiot even thinking it, but whatever. It's true. She'd probably just laugh it off if he tells her that, though.

"Feel like shit, too," he grumbles as she moves to sit down beside him. She crosses her legs and he keeps his arm over his eyes to, you know, keep him from being a total dick and looking. "Makes it worse that _you_ don't look like shit. Thanks for that, by the way."

She laughs, reaches over to mess with his hair, which she does sometimes when it bothers her. "You sound pretty ungrateful to the person who brought you coffee this morning just the way you like it, after she spent all night listening to you whine about what shade of blue you should go with." He smirks because he knows she's teasing. "You're an ass, Rogers."

"I know," he says. She swats his arm and he laughs, grasps her wrist and smooths his thumb over the back of her hand.

"But now he's _your_ ass," Sharon chimes in. Their friends usually give them shit about things, except, there's something almost _giddy_ to her tone that catches his attention.

It catches Natasha's, too, because her tone is a little off as she retorts with, "I think I'll pass."

"You know, you two are awfully nonchalant about saying that you love each other," Wanda says with a bit of a giggle, and Steve feels his heart skip. He pulls his forearm out from over his eyes to find Wanda grinning at them. _Everyone_ is grinning at them, actually. "If James and I hadn't heard it ourselves, I'd be more upset about neither of you saying anything yet."

"What are you talking about?" Natasha asks. She doesn't sound upset, exactly, just confused. A bit of Wanda's smile fades.

"You…" She trails off, glancing at Bucky. "You heard it too, right?" He nods, giving Steve and Natasha a strange look. "We came by the room this morning so that James could grab something, but you two sounded—busy, and then you said that you loved each other."

Shit. _Shit_. Steve sits up slowly, turning to Natasha, but she looks just as lost as he feels. She obviously doesn't remember any of this, either.

"You don't remember?" Bucky asks. He sounds totally serious.

"No," Natasha says, eyebrows furrowing. Steve doesn't really realize that he's still holding onto her until he feels her arm go limp, and he rubs his thumb over her knuckles almost absently, the way he always does when he can tell that she needs a moment. _He_ needs a moment, too, because there's no way that everyone would just mess with them. Not with something like this. "We'd been up for twenty hours and running on nothing but sugar and Red Bulls," she tells them, glancing at Steve. "I don't really remember anything, actually."

"Me neither," he admits, squeezing his other hand around a patch of grass, because fuck. What the hell did he say to her last night?

Not that she even remembers. He's not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.

Bucky blinks at them, surprised, and Wanda actually blushes a little, flustered by the confusion. "Wait," Sharon says, "you really don't remember?"

"Babe, they've been pining after each other for three semesters now," Sam says almost nonchalantly. "If they remembered, they definitely wouldn't be acting like _this_."

Steve closes his eyes. _God_. Spill his heart out, why don't they? He might need better friends.

"Steve?" Natasha says, voice soft, and he opens his eyes to glance at her. She looks – kind of endearing, peering at him from under those ridiculously long eyelashes of hers. She's nervous, he can tell, and he gets this urge to pull her into a hug. _Fuck_. She doesn't get overwhelmed very easily, but she looks so damn upset when she does and he hates it.

"Yeah," he breathes out, even though she technically didn't ask anything yet. She doesn't need to, though. He already knows what she should've asked anyway.

"How long?"

"Since we met, basically." No sense in trying to downplay it.

She sucks in a soft breath and he almost winces. He expects her to be pissed. She has every right. He's never taken advantage of their friendship and wouldn't _dare_ , but, she's slept in his room and he's slept in hers. Hell, they've slept in the same _bed_ , and she's changed around him. He never, ever looked, but still. He hid this from her and it wasn't fair, because she might not have been so comfortable around him if she knew that he thought about her _like that_. It almost hurts to think of it like that, but it's the truth. Natasha always has people that want to sleep with her and most of the time she brushes it off. But finding out that one of your best friends might also be one of those guys is a good reason to be pissed. Shit. _Shit_.

" _Fuck_ ," Natasha mutters, cutting off his thoughts, and before he can even react, she hooks one of her hands over the back of his neck and tugs him close and—

She kisses him, hard and hot and heavy, and he feels his heart skip. He lets go of her wrist to tangle his fingers in her hair and she cups his jaw with both of her hands, kisses him a little harder, a little deeper. He makes this sound from the back of his throat, vaguely registers Bucky and Sharon whistling, Wanda and Sam laughing.

"You _ass_ ," she breathes when she pulls away. Just far enough to catch her breath, because he doesn't really let her go. He doesn't ever want to. "You kept this from me."

"I know."

"You're always in my ear about not keeping things, and yet—" She huffs out a breath, lips twitching into a smile. "You're an _ass_."

"I know," he says with a chuckle, nudging his nose against hers. "But now I'm _your_ ass."

Their friends laugh, and Natasha _smiles_ , beautiful and bright. She winds her arms around his neck, nips at his lower lip. " _Mine_ , indeed."


	51. Day Fifty-Three

**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** ~1,300  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** Natasha not letting Steve leave the bed to go on his morning run because it is too cold and he needs to stay to keep her warm. Smutty, please and thank you. Also, if you can throw in Steve playing with Natasha's hair, that would be much appreciated. :D

 **For:** bloodredmoon87

 **A/N:** It took me almost two weeks to finally sit down and write this, but _holy crap_ , was this the perfect prompt to come back to! Definitely warmed me up with how cold it's been :)

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty-three  
**

His fingers comb through her hair, idly massaging her scalp, and she lets out a low hum as she leans back into his hand just a little more. _Fuck_ , she always loves how that feels. It's almost about to lull her back to sleep, which she knows is kind of the point.

"Don't even think about it, Rogers," she murmurs, her lips brushing against the curve of his neck where she's buried her face.

His chest rumbles in a low chuckle, which feels nice with the way they're pressed together. "You're a Rogers, too," he reminds, his tone almost giddy, the way it always gets when he points this out. It always, always makes her smile, which she thinks is a little stupid, but whatever. He makes her do stupid things. He's also dodging her demand, so she wraps her arms around his torso, tucks herself into him a little more. Her leg presses between his and her lips twitch into a smirk at what she feels there. "Nat," he breathes, almost in a whine.

" _Stay_ ," she commands, nipping at his pulse as she gently scrapes her nails down his side, brushing the spot just under his ribs that drives him crazy.

He groans, grasps her wrist but still lets her scratch at that spot. "We go through this every morning."

"Because every morning, you leave me cold and all alone in this bed for your stupid run." She presses a wet kiss to his throat, once, twice, three times, nips at his skin again.

"Exercise is important," he reminds, and she can practically hear that cheeky grin of his. Says the man whose body is was literally made to stay perfect. She tilts her head up to glare at him like the ass he is and he breathes out a warm chuckle that tickles her skin. "And I'm not sure how you could even be cold considering you always end up with all of the blankets."

"Fuck you," she says, lips tugging into too wide of a grin to be convincing. He raises an eyebrow. She smirks, leans up and nips at his earlobe. " _Fuck me_."

He makes this sound from the back of his throat. "Unfair," he breathes out. She shrugs a shoulder, presses herself closer. She knows he can feel her wet against his thigh.

"Maybe if you stop leaving me so easily, I'll put a little more romance into it."

"Easy?" He hooks an arm around her and pulls her over his body, their chests pressing together, and then splays his fingers over her ass as he moves her to grind against him. Her lips part, eyelashes fluttering as he moves her against him once, twice, three times, rubbing just hard enough against her nerves to make a warmth slide down her spine, coiling and coiling in her stomach. He moves the hand in her hair, wraps a chunk of it around her wrist and gives it a gentle tug, neck curving with the motion. She whimpers – because _fuck_ , she loves his hands in her hair, loves how gently he likes to play with it, but she loves _this_ , too. "Trust me, Natasha. Leaving you is not easy _at all_ ," he says against her throat, then nips at her pulse.

"Yeah?" It's ridiculous that he knows her body so well, that it takes almost nothing at all for him to make her melt at his touch.

He hums against her skin. "Yeah." He presses a wet kiss to her pulse, her shoulder, her collarbone, and she winds her arms around his neck, presses herself closer. He groans, his lips grazing one of her breasts, breath hot and wet against her skin. "Leaving _this_ "—he rolls his hips up, his hard length pressing against her slicking folds, and she lets out this little noise—"leaving your warmth, your touch—it takes a hell of a lot of will power to get myself out of this bed." He licks a stripe up the dip of her breasts, lets his teeth graze her skin, _teasing_ her.

"Maybe that means you should stay."

"Nah," he answers with a chuckle, threading his fingers through her hair, cradling her head as she tips it back a little more. "I like driving you crazy," he says, and then closes his lips around one of her nipples before she can respond, drawing a little mewl.

" _Jerk_ ," she breathes. He hums, making her skin tingle, her stomach coiling, and she digs her nails into the back of his neck. She rolls her hips and scratches at his skin, but he ignores her, pulling off with a wet sound before latching into her other breast. "Steve," she snaps, but it comes out in this harsh breath that tapers off into a moan as he sucks his lips.

She feels him grin as he moves his hands down, grips her hips as he guides her up and over him, and they both moan as she sinks down.

She scratches her nails down his chest, arches her spine and tosses her head back. He tightens his hold on her, fingers digging deliciously into her skin as he thrusts up once, twice, three times, hitting that sweet spot and making her cry out. She braces her palms flat against his chest, leaning forward as she rises and falls, meeting his hips. They move slowly at first, almost lazily, which is kind of ridiculous considering the way the warmth in her stomach flutters faster, tightening, the pressure already building quickly at the base of her spine.

He slides a hand up her side, thumb passing over her nipple with a little tug. She gnaws on her lower lip and rolls her hips a little faster, and his fingers trace along her jaw, tangling into her hair. He wraps it around his wrist again, then pulls his hand away, letting her hair twirl as it comes undone. His eyelashes flutter, his rhythm faltering for a second.

Her lips tug at the corners, a soft sort of giggle falling from her lips as she takes in his hazy eyes, his parted lips. He looks almost as dazed as she feels.

Her voice must grab his attention, because his lips twitch into a grin, too, his fingers flexing at her hip as he thrusts up a little faster, a little harder, making her suck in a breath as she falls forward a little. Then he brings a hand between them, massages his thumb gently over her little bundle of nerves.

She whimpers, scratching at his chest. She's completely bared, the blanket bunching at their hips, but her skin feels _hot_ , tingling and flushed and burning at his touch.

He rubs in circles, his breath stuttering as his rhythm grows more frantic. Her legs tighten around his hips as she tries to meet his thrusts, but she's too dizzy on the heat to even want to keep up, letting him guide her atop him. She shivers, pleasure rippling through her as he presses in harder and faster and deeper, thumb rolling over and over again on her clit.

When she comes, it almost takes her by surprise – her eyes are closed and her back is arches and her nails are digging into his chest, legs quivering as her walls flutter.

She moans out when he keeps thrusting through her orgasm, keeps rubbing her oversensitive nerves, dragging it out as he falls over that edge moments later. She whimpers as she falls forward, pressing her face into his neck as the tremors ripple through her.

A moment later, he reaches down, shifting him inside her and making her shiver as he grasps onto the blanket and tugs it back over them. Now it's _too_ hot to need the thing, but she doesn't care; just lifts her head up and kisses him, wet and heavy and dirty. He tucks his hands into her hair and nips at her lower lip, presses his tongue against hers.

"Warm enough?" He's being genuine, but he's also teasing her. She smirks, kisses him a little harder, a little dirtier.

"Definitely," she tells him. "Better than a morning run?"

He breathes out a laugh, gently scrapes his fingers over her scalp. "Definitely."


	52. Day Fifty-Five

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,000  
 **Characters:** Bucky/Wanda  
 **Prompt:** "What's going on here?" + "Are you wearing my shirt?"

 **For:** marvelousdorito

 **A/N:** I know this was for the holiday meme, but because I've lagged so much, I'd also like to say _Happy Valentine's Day!_

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty-five  
**

"Doll," he murmurs, voice low and soothing and so incredibly _sexy_ in her ear, drawing her out of her sleep. She feels her lips twitch into a smile, and he must know that she's already awake, because he lets out warm laugh across the back of her neck, draping his metal arm over her. Her heart flutters at its touch, her skin tingling. He wasn't supposed to be back from his mission until tomorrow. "Doll," he says again, brushing her hair over her shoulder and baring her neck to him. His lips skim along the column of her throat. "Good morning."

She reaches behind her, hooks her hand over the back of his neck and tugs him closer. "Good morning," she says, kissing the side of his jaw. "You're home early."

"Yeah," he says, giving her hip a squeeze. "Our flight got in an hour ago. I came straight from debriefing."

She wrinkles her nose at him, lips twitching at the corners. "I can tell."

He laughs because he knows she's teasing. "Well, in that case, I should probably shower—" he starts, moving as if to pull away (even though she knows he's only playing). She giggles and rolls them over, pins him against the mattress by his shoulders as she straddles his hips. He grins. "Are you wearing my shirt?" he asks, reaching up to touch her shoulder where her (his) shirt has fallen off, baring her skin. She leans in a little closer and nods, feeling her heart skip in her chest when he glances down. She's wearing her favorite lacy black bra and panties and nothing else underneath, because he loves it on her and she likes wearing it when he's gone as a little extra something to remember him. "Looks really good on you, doll."

His voice is gravelly and his eyes are dark, his metal thumb rubbing circles into her skin. She tips her head forward, her hair falling in a curtain around them. "Really?" she asks.

"Looks damn good on you," he says – almost _growls_ – as he cradles the back of her head and pulls her flushed against his chest. He kisses her once, twice, three times, tangling his fingers in her hair, and she lets out this little mewl, clutching the material of his jacket between her fingers.

His other hand slides over her hip, tracing over the lace waistband of her panties. "Think you'll like it _off_ of me, too?" she asks, nipping

He groans and she can't help but grin as she leans up, reaching for the hem of her shirt to pull it off. But then he says, "wait, wait," with a bit of a laugh, grasping her wrists to keep them in place. She pauses, blinking at him, and he smiles a little wider and reaches up to rub his thumb over the crinkle between her eyebrows. "Don't you want breakfast first?"

"James," she says.

"Come on." He scoots them toward the edge of the bed, hooks an arm around her and lifts her up as he stands, and she lets out a squeal, clinging onto him.

"James!" His laugh rumbles against her chest with how they're pressed together. She giggles, combs her fingers through her hair as he steps them out of their bedroom. "I was trying to be sexy for you," she tells him, pursing her lips to feign a pout.

His eyes are twinkling. "Doll, you are _always_ sexy."

She laughs, parts her lips to respond – but then her voice trails off as she catches a whiff of something she hadn't been expecting. It's sweet and soft and _strong_ , and James is still smiling at her, amusement touching his expression. She furrows her eyebrows, glancing over her shoulder, and then her heart flutters in her chest as she sucks in a breath.

Their living room is _crowded_ with flowers. Bright, beautiful arrangements in glass vases, covering almost every inch of the apartment in color.

She snaps her eyes back onto his, blinking quickly. "What's going on here?"

He presses a kiss to her cheek before gently lowering her onto her feet. "I _might_ have asked Darcy to keep you up last night while I was waiting for my flight," he admits, taking her hand in his. He threads their fingers together, giving a gentle squeeze, and she feels another giggle bubble from her lips. That would explain why Darcy insisted on watching so many episodes of _Charmed_. "Still, I was a little worried you might wake up when you heard me, so I asked Pietro to help me speed things along." He leans in, kisses her hair. "Surprise."

She breathes out a bit of a laugh, eyelashes dotting with tears as she blinks and glances around the living room. The curtains are drawn, the morning sunlight catching in the colorful metals and reflecting off of the glass vases, making everything just a little bit brighter, a little more _magical_.

"But—" She glances up at him, feeling herself smiling a little wider even as she asks, "Why?"

He shrugs a shoulder, then reaches up and brushes her hair behind her ear. "Because I love you." He grins and brushes thumb over her lower lip. "And I was trying to be romantic."

Her heart skips, warmth fluttering in her stomach. She stretches up on her toes, squeezes their joined hands as she curves her other hand over the back of his neck. He leans in a little closer, nudges her nose with his. "You are _always_ romantic, James," she whispers, and he breathes out a chuckle as she slants her lips against his.

She kisses him soft and slow and sweet, stretching up a little more as she presses herself a little closer.

She kisses him until she's breathless, and then he pulls away, pressing his lips to her cheek, her temple, the bridge of her nose, and then leans his forehead against hers.

"So," she breathes after a moment, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. "Does that offer for breakfast still stand or…?"

He chuckles and nods, kissing the middle of her forehead. "Anything for you, doll."


	53. Day Fifty-Six

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,300  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** an edit

 **A/N:** Had I posted this on time, it would've been a Christmas theme for Christmas Day – but since that's long passed, I decided to write a little something inspired by a gorgeous edit posted by akurotori on Valentine's Day.

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty-six  
**

Sam and Sharon get married in the gardens of this gorgeous country club in New York, against the morning light as the sun is starting to rise, and honestly? Natasha doesn't really believe in anything being perfect, but as far as weddings go, this one is pretty much that. And it's so, _so_ stupid that her breath catches when she's standing beside Sharon as Sam is saying his vows, but she remembers exactly how that felt. Remembers Steve taking her hand and staring into her eyes and actually stumbling over his words a little, not because of nerves, but because of _impatience_. He'd licked his lips, the way he always did when he really wants to kiss her, and _god_ , she almost tugged him by his tie to do that very thing. They didn't need vows or a ring or a ceremony to prove how much they loved each other. But they'd wanted it – _she_ had wanted it, and she never thought she would, or that she _could_.

(She's kind of a sap these days. She blames Steve.)

The reception is set up a few paces away from the ceremony, under a canopy of flowers, and she tries not to find it cute how Steve carefully pulls a peony from one of the garlands and tucks it into the braids of her hair. She knows that she's smiling as she shakes her head at him, and Steve winks as he pulls out her chair for her.

He sets a hand on her knee when he sits down, leans over and brushes a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I love you."

She rolls her eyes, earning a grin in response. He kisses her once more, twice, and she lets out a bit of a laugh because she knows what he wants. "I love you, too," she says, feigning sigh, and he chuckles as he grasps her chin with his fingers and brushes a kiss to her lips.

"You know," Clint drawls as he passes them, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips, "only Sam and Sharon get a free pass to be disgustingly cute today."

"I'll remember you said that the next time Laura complains that you're not romantic enough," Natasha retorts. Clint just laughs and makes his way to his seat, sitting down and ruffling Nathaniel's hair where he's perched atop his mother's lap. _God_ , he's gotten so big now. He's two, which is still really young, but sometimes it feels like it's only been a few weeks since she stood with Laura in that delivery room, not two years. You'd think that with things calming down a bit and The Avengers not being sent around the world as much, time would slow.

But it hasn't at all, and it's ridiculous that she sometimes wants it to, even for a little. She never used to think this way before, to want to live in one moment for too long.

(She blames this on Steve, too.)

"Remember how small he used to be?" she asks, knowing Steve has probably followed her gaze. "His cheeks used to be so full and round."

"They still are." Steve looks totally amused when she glances at him. She glares, which makes him laugh. "He's not a baby anymore," he agrees, rubbing his hand over her arm. It's ridiculous how comforting that gesture is, or that he knows to comfort her before she realized she needed it herself.

"I miss it," she says. She doesn't care if that sounds stupid.

"That won't be the last time you hold a baby," he tells her, sliding his arm up and resting it on her shoulder. She holds his gaze, his blue eyes clear and beautiful. He brushes his thumb over the sleeve of her dress, brushing the spot where it meets her skin. His smile softens, but his eyes brighten. She can tell that they're having another conversation entirely, that his promise means so much more, and _fuck_ , she loves that they always just know. That they're always on the same page. "All you have to do is say when," he adds, lips quirking, and she lets out a laugh. It's hardly that simple. Nothing ever is in their lives. But Steve makes it feel like it, makes her _believe_ that things can be that simple, and she knows he believes it, too.

"You better keep your word, soldier," she says, voice soft, leaning in, and he breathes out a, "yes, ma'am," as she brushes another kiss to his lips.

He takes her hand, threads their fingers together and keeps giving it a little squeeze every now and then as the food is served. It's stupid how much she doesn't mind it, though.

He keeps holding it, too, when he stands to make his speech, and it's not at all a surprise that he's the one that moves the whole reception to tears. Everyone claps as he sits back down, and Sharon is totally crying when she takes hold of Natasha's other hand and mutters, "If your husband is the reason my makeup is ruined for pictures, I swear to God."

Natasha just laughs and dabs at the corners of Sharon's eyes with a napkin. She'd tease her for being a wreck, but _fuck_. She got totally choked up, too.

"You okay, love?" Steve asks, eyes twinkling in amusement as he strokes his thumb over her cheek. She knows he still gets a kick out of making her emotional considering how hard he had to work at it in the beginning.

(She doesn't tell him that she's always let him see so much more of her than she let anybody else, even when she would still pull away. She thinks he already knows, though.)

And of course, _of course_ , Steve is the first one up on his feet after Sam and Sharon have their first dance and they open the floor for other couples to join. She's laughing as he takes both of her hands in his and guides her onto the dance floor, gives her a little twirl before pulling her to his chest and splaying his fingers across her back, pressing her closer. She lets out a little sigh, winds her arms around his neck and dips her head forward, sort of pressing her face into his collarbone. She remembers being pressed against him like this for their first dance, his voice low and soothing as he hums along, swaying them in place. It's too easy to lose herself in the moment, in _him_ , and she stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

A gentle squeeze of her hips draws her attention, and she can't help but feel her lips curve into a smirk. She lifts her head to meet his gaze.

"What is it?" he asks, a touch of amusement in his tone again because he knows she's about to say something.

She leans up, hugs him a little closer as she nips lightly at his earlobe. "No underwear," she whispers, and she swears she feels him pause ever so slightly.

"What?"

She pulls back, smiling a little wider, and _fuck_ , she really shouldn't find it cute when a grown man blushes, but, well. Steve's always been her exception to a lot of things. He gives her hips another squeeze and then slides his hands down a little lower, slowly. She knows the moment he realizes that she's not bluffing, because she sees the shift in his gaze.

"Just think," she tells him, voice low and breathy as she brings their faces together. "We could have our own honeymoon, right now." She smirks. "The first one was so much fun."

He groans softly, and she laughs, drawing their hips together. She can't wait for him to get her out of this dress.


	54. Day Fifty-Seven

**Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** ~1,400  
 **Characters:** Steve/Natasha  
 **Prompt:** "Geek/Jock pairing! (if its smutty, it makes me happy..)"

 **For:** girlwiththeredpurse

 **A/N:** This trope is so golden that I'm almost ashamed it took me so long to sit down and actually write this!

 **the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty-seven  
**

She's being ridiculous. She _knows_ she is.

Still, she can't quite help the flare of irritation in her chest as she leans on the doorway of the art classroom, watching as this petite brunette laughs a little too brightly at something Steve says as he's tucking his canvases under his arm. The arm that the girl _touches_ , giving it a little squeeze as she bats her eyes. Natasha tightens her grip on the duffel strap slung over her shoulder and tries not to grit her teeth. _God_ , she doesn't know what's wrong with her. She's watched this little sophomore flirt with Steve all semester and never batted an eye. Especially since Natasha is sure the girl only picked this class so she could undress Steve with her eyes, because Steve said that this sophomore isn't very enthusiastic about art.

Normally, Natasha would find this little display amusing. Right now, she just finds it damn _annoying_.

She's certain half of her irritable mood has to do with the burn in her muscles and the soreness of her feet from cheer practice. The squad adores Coach Carter, of course, but she's always been a bit of a hard-ass, and the woman has been running them ragged with nationals just around the corner.

"Nat," Steve says when he sees her, his entire expression brightening. The genuine affection in his tone cuts through her annoyance, but only for a second.

"Hi." She manages a smile, the corner of her lips twitching when she sees a crestfallen expression cross the sophomore's face before she smooths it into a polite smile of her own. Even _this_ strikes another flare of irritation in Natasha, which then pisses Natasha off even more for being so bothered by this little girl in the first place. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," he says, zipping his canvases into his backpack before slinging one of the straps onto his shoulder. He pauses to say goodbye to the rest of the students still in the art classroom, but Natasha doesn't stay to watch what that sophomore might do next.

She spins on her heels and starts down the hallway, not even turning to look over her shoulder when she hears Steve call her name, his footsteps hurrying to catch her. It only takes a few strides before his hand is touching her arm above her elbow, giving a gentle squeeze. "Hey, Nat," he says, attempting to get her to stop, but she yanks her arm away and walks a little faster. "Nat," he says again, and she huffs, coming to a stop so abruptly that he bumps into her. She lets him spin her so that they're facing, taking her chin and gently forcing her to meet his eyes. The worry in them makes her stomach curl in guilt, because he's done nothing to deserve her being cold and she knows it. But she still can't quite shake her mood.

"What?" she snaps. _God_ , she's such a bitch. Sometimes she doesn't know why he puts up with her.

He flinches in surprise at her tone. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," she sighs, looking away. But he strokes his thumb over the apple of her cheek, and it's so annoyingly _comforting_ that she lets out a shaky breath. Damn him and his charm. She meets his gaze and tells him, "You didn't anything to piss me off, I promise. I'm sorry."

He nods, but his eyebrows furrow in confusion. "But you _are_ pissed about something." He stares at her for a long moment, and then his lips twitch as if… as if in _amusement_.

Okay, now he's starting to piss her off.

"What?" she demands.

"You're _jealous_." He actually _smiles_ at her, the jackass, and she almost growls as she slugs him in the chest. Not that that's going to do anything. Sometimes it's hard to reconcile the scrawny little boy she's known since middle school with the guy standing in front of her now, with his broad shoulders and his ridiculous muscles. Sarah and Joseph always reassured him that kids could grow out of their asthma, but when it actually happened before their senior year, she hadn't expected the change to be so drastic. A growth spurt and a summer spent with Bucky at the gym had done Steve a lot of good, and people – especially flirty little girls – had definitely noticed. Three years of never glancing his way and _now_ they notice.

And okay, maybe _that's_ what pisses her off the most about this. Steve has always been Steve, but none of these girls cared for him until he looked like _this_. Maybe they never bullied him, but they sure as hell weren't pleasant with him, either.

"I'm not—" she starts, but he tugs her into an empty classroom before she can continue. He's still smiling at her, and she wants to slap that damn look off of his face. She scowls and yanks herself from his grasp, glaring at him, which only makes him smile a little more. "I swear to god, Steve, if you're just going to tease me—"

He cuts her off with a kiss, hard and deep and _dirty_ as he backs her up against the door, all but slamming it shut with the force. She makes this noise as he pushes her duffel strap off of her shoulders and drops his backpack to the floor, and then he's crowding her space, their hips flushed and his hands cupping her face as he kisses her breath away.

Then he yanks his lips from hers, drawing a whimper as he sucks on the column of her throat. She grasps onto his biceps and digs her nails in as he wedges his knee between hers.

"Steve—" She sucks in a gasp as he slips his hands into her cheer sweats and cups her heat. _Fuck_. When did she get wet? He sucks at her pulse and she breathes, "Talk to me, Steve."

"I love you." Her heart skips, the way it does ever since he first said the words. "I love you, Natasha."

His finger finds her clit through the material of her panties as she lets out a throaty laugh. "I love you, too, but I still don't know what's going on."

He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, his fingers stroking, making the heat in her stomach curl as her arousal dampens the front of her panties. His eyes are dark and hazy with hunger, she can still see that glimmer in them – the glimmer that is undeniably _Steve_. "I know you, Nat. I know how you are, how you think," he tells her, and she nods. He does. He really, really does. "The only possible reason I could fathom for you being jealous about someone flirting with me is because you're actually just being protective of me, and I love it."

"Yeah?" is all she can really manages, because he's sinking to his knees, peering up at her with that mischievous little smirk as he tugs her sweats and panties down her legs.

"Yeah," he breathes, kissing the inside of her thigh. He tips his head forward and takes a gentle, barely there lick, and it'd be pathetic that that's enough to make her legs wobble if she cared for things like that with Steve. He tightens his grip on her hips. "Those girls – they never cared for me before. They never saw me for me, for my _heart_. Only _you_ did."

 _Damn right_.

She scrapes her nails over his scalp, tightening her grip on his hair as his breath ghosts over her heat. He takes another lick and she moans out, head falling back against the door.

"I know you're not being insecure," he says, giving her ass a squeeze and making her jump, a laugh falling from her lips. He chuckles, lips glistening as he grins up at her. "But if you were, you'd have nothing to worry about. Because there's only _you_. There's only ever been you."

"I know," she gasps as he starts licking at her folds, eyes fluttering closed. She _does_ know. She really does. It's ridiculous that she'd even felt jealous to begin with, but if this is how Steve plans to take her mind off of it, then she's got no complaints. "O- _oh_ ," she stutters out, spine curving as she rolls her hips against his curling tongue. "Oh, _god_."

"That's it." He brings a hand between them and circles his thumb over her little bundle of nerves, making her hips jump. "Let them hear you, hear how much I love you."

Then he sinks two fingers into her, closes his lips around her clit, and she lets out a moan so loud that it probably echoes down the hallway.

(She doesn't even have the energy to be pissed about _anything_ when he's done with her. Maybe she should act jealous more often.)


End file.
